In Silence
by Goggles and Chocolate
Summary: In silence, Matt and Mello grew up. In silence, side by side. In silence, two children became adults, too soon, too fast, too harshly. But along the way, love developed, without a warning, without a sound. CO-AUTHORING DLVVANZOR AND XXBEYONDXBIRTHDAYXX
1. Chapter 1

_**Note: **We're back!!! Dlvvanzor and me first thought we would end the fic before posting it, but since it's going to be longer than expected, here we go!  
You will get a chapter per day, each chapter is from one POV, so one day it will be Mello, the next will be Matt, and so on.  
And as usual, **Matt** is written by** Dlvvanzor** and **Mello** is written by **xxbeyondxbirthdayxx**._**  
**_Yeah, it was supposed to be called 'Dante's Inferno', but in the end, it didn't fit the fic at all, so we changed the title!_**  
**_Oh, and Dlvvanzor says 'hi'! XD_**  


* * *

Mello:  
**I regained my senses as the car slid along a wet dark road. The flight from Berlin to London happened in a daze and I didn't even process it until now, realising I couldn't even remember if my seat was window or row, or even how long it had lasted. How did I get to the airport at first?  
It didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore. My parents were in all my thoughts, and the rest was just absurd. Absurd car driving from London to whatever absurd place I would have to go on with my absurd life, when all I wanted was to be with my parents: deep down under freshly digged ground, between wooden planks.

I wasn't even allowed to attend their burial. Too dangerous for me. Denying me this important part of the mourning process, I read that in a psychology book, and had tried to use that fact for them to let me be present that day. But more than being present the day they would start rotting, I wanted to have a chance to be taken as a target. I was the son of the biggest Mafia mob in Germany, and I had all powers, except the one to die.

I couldn't kill myself. It was forbidden, in my religion, I mean. I didn't want to disappoint my parents, dead or not, or God. Not that wanting to be taken as a target wasn't related to suicide, I guess it was all the same, but maybe I could trick God in this?

I'm thinking too much. Even now, even in this situation, I can't stop my brain from working. Genius, huh? What for? I used to work hard to be the best because I had someone to be proud of me. And now what? Be proud of myself, alone? Too bad, I'm someone craving attention and care. And I wouldn't get any of those anymore.

My parents loved me, raised me well, made me respect them and God. But that's parental unconditional love, so I guess it was normal for them to love their son. It wasn't that easy for people not related with me by blood to appreciate me. Some would lick my shoes because of my position as a Mafia heir, some would despise me because I looked nothing like my strong and impressive father, rather like my fragile and delicate mother. Natural born fag. That's how they called me in my back. I heard them, but never showed I did. It's not like if a ten years old kid could stand for himself face to a handful of bodybuilt thugs. I could beat them at any mind game, but I was physically as strong as a twig.

I took a look at the man driving. His hair was grey, badly cut, and I could see his face in the rear-view mirror, marked by years, emotionless. Roger. I remembered the man introducing himself as he picked me up at the airport. And the name of the place where we were heading: Wammy's.

He almost pulled me out of the car as we arrived and I took too much time to his liking to pull myself together. Home for gifted children.

What a beautiful way to call an orphanage breeding geniuses to be the next L, as Mr Wammy explained to me a while later in his office. Old man, old face, old mahogany desk... everything seemed old and set in stone here. Schedules, ranks, classes, and the aim set for every child here. Being a detective. I've never wanted to be one.

I wanted to be a novelist, I just wanted to use words, turn them into sentences that would mean something. Taking all these thoughts out of my mind and create a world out of them. My father used to say that my mother was telling me too many fairytales and that she was turning me into a princess instead of a knight. He began, one day, to bring me comics like Spiderman, Dare Devil, Ghost Rider... It was just stupid comics to me, who would believe in such supernatural powers? The only one that appealed to me was Ghost Rider, I thought that the bike and the leather were cool, but that was about all.

But even if my father would have liked me to be stronger, taller, more masculine, he loved me and accepted me. That got him and my mother killed by an aspiring mob, because my father had made it clear I would replace him one day, and part of the mob refused to be led by a fag-looking boss.

I stayed silent as Mr Wammy explained to me once again why I was here and what I was expected to do. He gave me a new name, or rather nickname, which I hated immediately. I stood up when he dismissed me, and followed Roger to what would be my room. As much as my brain was working, my mouth stayed shut. Even if I had wanted, I couldn't utter a word. The lump in my throat was so thick that I would have broken down and cried on the first syllable.

Roger shoved me in a bedroom upstairs, barely introduced me to my room mate who didn't even take his eyes off what he was doing at the moment, and left me there. I almost cried as the other boy ignored me, and I quickly unpacked to focus my mind on something else before the tears that were threatening to fall passed the corner of my eyes. I then grabbed a chocolate bar, the only thing that could calm my nerves, and ate it standing next to the window.

The dinner bell rang an hour later. The boy, Matt, which was probably not his real name although it sounded more like a normal name than mine, stood up, and left his game reluctantly. "Mello, are you coming?" he asked me.  
I was surprised that he had registered my name when he seemed totally oblivious of my and Roger's presence a little earlier, but I didn't reply and ignored him just like he did before. "Ok, as you wish." Matt left the room, leaving me alone.  
Now that I was alone, I could finally grab my rosary, that I was itching to hold in my hands since I had arrived there.  
This was the only thing I had been allowed to keep from my previous life, this little necklace and cross that my mother had offered me on my 5th birthday, when I had been old enough to understand the concept of God.

The rain was pouring outside, and as the night fell on Wammy's gardens, slowly erasing the shape of leafless trees and bushes from my sight, I began reciting the Pater Noster in my native tongue, rather than in latin like the priest of the religion classes I attended to in Berlin always wanted us to do. In the language I heard first in the morning as my father said hello to me with his beautiful smile, and last before going to bed, when my mother would tell me a story and kiss me goodnight.

"Vater unser, der Du bist in dem Himmel geheiligt werde Dein Name, Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe wie im Himmel so auf Erden..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Matt:**  
As of that moment, I had been at Wammy's House for Extraordinary Children for 3 years, 3 months, and 17 days, and as bad as it was, it was still 100 times better than the 7 years I spent with my parents.

If you wanted, I could tell you the hours and minutes, too. Because that's how slowly time ticked by in that place.

I stared at the clock, willing it to go faster. It had never obeyed in the past and I didn't expect it to anytime soon. While I knew that I should have been paying attention, I simply could not work up a good care. I had skipped all my classes the day before, and I should have done it again that day because my mind was _not_ there. Actually, my brain was still in Hyrule... that was _such _a good game. Old school. I just had to work on Epona's jumping technique and I was _sure_ I'd be able to cut my completion time in half. Stupid horse always backed up in frikin slow motion when you missed the jump...

"Matt! Pay attention!" Mrs. Zoo (Yeah, that was her name. Really.) ordered me.

I thought it was wrong of her to nag. I mean, I had left my Game Boy in my room... this time... and I wasn't gaming in class at that particular moment. She needed to accept that _that_ was as close to 'Matt paying attention' as she was ever going to get.

She continued to blather on about statistics, trig, and calculus, and I wondered for the millionth time why they were teaching ten-year-olds advanced mathematics. I mean, I understood that we were geniuses and everything, but what did endless equations and Gandalf knows what else have to do with succeeding L? Could L do problems like this?

Okay, that was a stupid question, but my point stood.

Basically, I didn't want to be there.

There, specifically. As in, 'in math class.' Or any other class, really. But I wasn't one of those kids that wished their parents would come back to life and take them away from the orphanage, oh no. Taking annoying classes with math that I understood after the first problem was infinitely preferable to taking the beatings I had gotten at home. I may not have had any real friends there, but hey, I hadn't had any on The Outside either so I didn't think it made a difference. Plus, at Wammy's, no one cared that I was ranked second, just below the freaky-genius Near, without trying.

Of course, they cared that I didn't try, but they didn't mind that I was simply that _smart_.

I remember in first grade, in public school, I got sent to the office because I knew the answers already. They assumed I was cheating. I'm not sure I'll ever get over that.

So yeah, ranked second in a school of geniuses, without any effort whatsoever and minimal class attendance. Imagine if I were to _try_. If I wanted it, I could have the 'L' position in a week.

But I'm too damn lazy, and I honestly just don't care.

So, anyway, Mrs. Zoo was the only teacher who still tried to convince me to pay attention/work. The other teachers figured that they couldn't complain, because I was getting approximately 95 percent on every test I took. In a school that hands out privileges in accordance with your class rank, being a lazy genius is about the best thing you could ever dream of being: You get lots of free time, and you're smart enough that you don't have to use it to study. It was pretty sweet. And since the grades are test-based only, there's no homework. If you don't have to study, you don't have to do _anything._

The Sun Song was on a loop in my head. If I wasn't careful, I'd start humming it out loud and that would just be uncomfortable, especially since no one else would know what the heck I was singing because _they_ don't get to _enjoy_ their free time.

In short, the incredible pressure that made this place a Hell to some students just washed right over my head, barely ruffling my hair as I carried on with my colorful, pixilated life.

My mind wandered back to video games, planning how much X-Box Live I could get in before I would _have_ to sleep. I had made professional gamers all over the world cry and had picked up some basic Russian, German, Japanese, and Korean while I was at it. I had a good memory like that, which, incidentally, was why I didn't have to study.

The teacher finally dismissed us, and I was out of there before old Zoo could make me stay after.

The moment I was back in my room, I plopped down onto my bed and booted up my game. Instant relief of boredom, which was almost a constant in my life.

I noticed when the door opened (although I didn't show it) so I split my attention between my game and, it sounded like, Roger.

"Matt, stop your game and welcome your new room mate."

I hated being social, so I simply pretended to ignore him. This was my defense.

"Mello, this is Matt," Roger continued. "Your bed is the one on the right. Put your belongings away and be quiet. Matt will lead you to the dining room when it's time. Until then, do as you please as long as you don't go out of your room."

I glanced up. The 'Mello' girl didn't see me give her the once-over. Wait. Upon closer inspection, I realized Mello was a guy, which made a lot more sense if he was supposed to be my roommate. I could deal with him. A bit of a fag- and I was born in America, so I didn't mean 'cigarette'- judging by how he looked, but I wasn't a homophobe so it didn't really matter to me. German, by the looks of it. I looked back at my game almost immediately. I didn't want to make the new kid uncomfortable- I knew _I'd _be uncomfortable if my roommate kept staring at me, especially if I looked like _he_ did. He had probably already gotten too much attention because of his appearance in his life.

Roger finally dragged his ass out of the room, for which I would be eternally grateful. He smelled like Old Man and had a habit of stinking up any place he walked into. The smell would probably be in my- or, _our_, I guess- carpet for like a _week_ now. Bleh. Not that, as a smoker, I had an incredible sense of smell, or anything.

But Eau du Old Man was shortly replaced by something much more pleasant. Chocolate.

The kid didn't know I was watching him. Just because I wasn't _looking_ at him didn't mean I wasn't _watching_. Silly boy. Maybe he'd learn that, eventually.

Then he went to stand by the window. For an hour. What the _hell_ was so interesting out _there_? I had plenty of video games that he could borrow, if he'd asked. If he was one of those "nature people" we'd _never_ get along.

The dinner bell rang. Possibly the only thing that could distract me from my games, although the parting was always bittersweet sorrow. I watched them longingly as I stood and said, "Mello, are you coming?"

Either he didn't understand me or he didn't care, because he did nothing but look vaguely surprised, and then resume his staring contest with nature.

"Ok, as you wish," I said, shrugging, and made my way down to dinner. The faster I ate, the faster I could get back to my games.

As I walked away, I could hear him saying the Lord's Prayer in German.

Interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mello:  
**As I finished my prayer, I could hear the rumble of feet in the corridor. How do you get over your parents' death and go back to normal life activities like eating?  
Hm, how can I ask myself such stupid questions now of all moments? It was really strange realising that whatever TV or my mind had made me believe until now, you just don't cease to exist when you lose someone close to you. You're still just your normal self, with the same needy body, the same mind, the same process of thinking... Nothing to do with a soap opera fake mourning where people just stop being people, staying in bed all day, not eating, not thinking, just crying their pain all day long. Well, maybe that's what I would have done, after all, if I hadn't been forced here.  
That's what I wanted to believe, at least, because it made me feel less of an insensitive brat for just keeping on living and thinking like I was doing. Did I have the right to go on with my life when my family was dead?

My stomach growled, reminding me that mourning or not, my vital needs were still there. But even if I needed to eat, there was no way I would follow the crowd. It scared me. I wished I had someone to hold out a hand to me and make me feel like I wouldn't be left on my own.  
But I could probably starve myself to death and no one would care, or even notice.  
Since I wanted to die, that option appealed to me. It would be long though. Well, maybe not, after all, I was already skinny.

Yes, I wanted to die... but wanting it and killing myself were not the same thing. Was it enough for my guilt to just want it, or would my parents be mad at me for not trying? Was I a bad son for not letting my pain overwhelm me?  
I've been served that shit about how my parents wanted the best for me and would never have wanted me to be sad or stop living, from some of my father's faithful henchmen, from the social services, from Mr Wammy... but I know it was just a way to tie me to the living world and make sure I wouldn't do something stupid.

I was alone, no, I felt alone. I usually liked to be alone, but the kind of alone when you know your family is just next door and caring and you can get out of your solitude whenever you feel like it. I used to spend hours in my room, reading or writing short stories that only my mother would read, and I knew that she was always on the other side of the door, watching TV in the living room, painting in her office, or arranging flowers in the hall, never very far, within reach. Now, I was really alone.  
I shared a room, but I would be alone in my mourning, in my loss. Surely, that other kid, Matt, probably lost his parents too since every kid here was parentless, but that didn't mean our common experience made us close.

I didn't believe in the fact that living the same nightmare helped people befriend each other, because in the end, you just want to talk about your own pain, so does the other, and you end up waiting for your turn to talk when you fake listening. No one cares about what you have to say, unless you are of some usefulness to them, then they look like they care, a fake attention just to stir something out of you. Or use against you.  
So I'll shut up.

I dreaded what was waiting for me. Mr Wammy had made it clear that I would have to work hard in order to rank the higher possible, and that we were in constant competition, all of us. I wondered, since we were 47 here, as he told me, how the lower ranked people did. Did they still try hard to get a higher rank or did they know they were useless?

That's what I had understood. Only the three highest ranks had a chance to succeed L. Did they want to? And who were they?  
I knew that the students here were all geniuses, like me. I didn't dislike that. I wouldn't be the main attraction, the little monkey that teachers like to use to show off, that adults question just to see if I can answer correctly to difficult questions. I was in a cage, but I wasn't the white lion.  
Right now I only felt like a stray cat that was given food and shelter. How long would I stay here? Would I see L someday? All I knew was the letter, that he was very busy and working somewhere that no one was allowed to know. I bet Wammy knew.

Would I rank in the top three? Or even first? It seemed appealing to try to rank first, maybe it would help me think less...  
Sometimes I wish I had a button to switch my mind off. It's tiring me, I can't stop processing informations, analysing, scattering pieces of events to fix them together again in an order that makes them understandable, scrutinizing people and read their mind, determine their facial expression and discover what they hide. It's exhausting.  
I don't even know why I do it. My father always told me I was too curious, that it was sometimes better not to know everything about everyone, you love people more if you let them have their dark secrets. When you know them, you just tend to use these secrets against them. That's what he did on a daily basis, that was his job, as a Mafia boss, after all. Know people, use their weaknesses, reduce them to ashes so himself could continue to burn.

The night had fallen and it was pitch dark outside. I remembered seeing a night light outside, somewhere near this window, but it was obviously broken since I couldn't even distinguish the faintest outline of the trees and bushes I was staring at previously.  
Only the raindrops and their little glassy noises told me the weather hadn't changed since I arrived here.  
The sky was crying all the tears I kept in me and didn't allow myself to shed. Or was God pouring sorrow on me, just like my parents showered me with love? Just to show me I would never be happy again?

God... As much as the belief was anchored in me, at that moment, I really wanted to imagine a world without faith, because I was there, orphan of parents I cherished, cut from a life I loved, lonely, unwanted.  
Unwanted. That was what hurt the most.

My parents wanted me really hard. My mother couldn't get pregnant at first, and they had told me the story of my conception. The many doctors and treatments and such, and the finally welcome birth. That's probably why I've been so spoiled.  
And now... Oh, that wasn't true, I was wanted, my brain was wanted. All I had to do was work hard, right? And maybe, maybe... they would love me? Maybe that's how it works here?

I shook my head, getting rid of imaginary droplets as the rain continued its ticking on the window. I was so lost in my thoughts that for an instant I almost believed I stood in the rain.

But no matter how deep I buried myself in my train of thoughts, the pain was still stabbing at my chest. God, please, don't let me like this! It hurts too much, how am I supposed to take it?! How will I go on alone? Why don't you want me to be happy, why did you have to take everything I had?  
Ten years old, and already disillusioned. Had I sinned?

That's the thought that came to my mind all of a sudden. That was it. I had made a mistake. That was my punishment.  
But as much as I turned the idea in my head, I couldn't find out what I had done wrong. I never stole, never lied, I was too scared of disappointing my parents or God to ever think of doing something bad.

Just as I refrained a sob, the door open and Matt entered. I slid my rosary under my shirt as fast as I could, hoping he wouldn't notice.  
"I brought you something, in case you feel hungry later..." he said, and from the corner of my left eye I saw him deposit something on my night table.  
The rain stopped. And the lump in my throat disappeared.  
I looked at him, but looked away quickly and resumed staring by the window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Matt:**  
My one friend in this place (and even then, not really 'friend'), Linda, skipped and caught up with me, falling into step beside me on my way to the cafeteria. She grabbed my arm and immediately began speaking a million miles an hour, which was fine by me because it meant I didn't have to actually come up with anything to say. Linda was always good for that, if nothing else- drowning out your thoughts and replacing them with any that ran through _her_ head. It could be exhausting, but sometimes it was just good to _not think_.

She blathered on about nothing all the way to the huge cafeteria. Students were already up and about- early risers in perpetual imitation of L. Anything to be like him, right? I swear, for some of these people it was like they had sold their soul. Not that I believed in that stuff.

Suddenly, I said, "I got a roommate."

More than what I had said, Linda was surprised that I'd said something. I didn't usually talk around her (she never gave me a chance), so my volunteering information without her extortion probably came as something of a shock.

"Uh... really?" she asked, blinking.

"Yeah."

"Oh... um..." She liked that I was talking, but she didn't know how to get me to continue. "Cool! What's he like?"

"I dunno," I mused as we fought our way through the dinner line. Normal dinner food, but mounds of sweets and pastries, as well. One more way to be like L.

I got some food and we sat. "He's quiet," I said finally.

Linda laughed. "Then he got the perfect roommate, didn't he!"

Ignoring this, I inhaled my dinner, thinking. She kept talking.

What did I know about Mello? I knew what he looked like. I knew he was really upset and I could assume that it was because he'd lost his parents. I'd know tonight, assuming he slept; the new kids always cry in their sleep when they had liked their parents. Scream at nightmares. So I'd be able to tell.

Randomly, Linda asked me what he looked like.

"Um... our age, about my height, thin but not skinny like me... lots of black clothes... long, blond hair... blue eyes..." I frowned, searching for any more details, but I didn't have anything.

Well, nothing that I could find words for. I didn't know how to explain the intensity that I could feel radiating off of him. How I was sure that, no matter what he was feeling, he was feeling it more intensely than I had ever felt _anything_. How beneath that there was a kind of sharp, terrifying intelligence and clearness of thought. And determination that he hadn't had to develop yet, but was there.

This guy was gonna be something incredible.

But how can you really explain that?

"Ooh!" Linda squealed. "He sounds cute! _Is_ he cute!"

"I dunno." I shifted uncomfortably. After a pause, I blurted suddenly, "He's gay." Then I wondered why I'd said it.

"What?" she shrieked. "What do you mean?! How can you know that? Did he _tell_ you?!"

"Well, no," I admitted. "But you just need to look at him." Why had I said that so defensively? Why had the thought of a Mello/Linda deal freaked me out so much?

"_That_ much of a queen?" she whined.

I smiled a little. "Not exactly."

She sighed but I shrugged it off, like I shrugged off so many things about my life. Linda rambled about that for a while, but I definitely wasn't listening anymore. Remarkably ADD for a genius artist, though, she forgot all about Mello and began to talk about shoes or something.

As I threw out my tray, some chocolate cake that remained on the buffet table caught my eye. Mello hadn't had dinner, and it looked like chocolate was a comfort-type thing to him, judging by how he had clutched at it as he ate it. Plus, chocolate is just _good_. Who doesn't like chocolate? Chocolate almost made _me_ believe in God.

So I got him a good thick piece on a bit of paper towel, ignored Linda as she asked me what it was for, and headed back to my- our- room.

I snuck back in, in case he was sleeping, but I was not surprised to find him standing in the exact place I had left him. He hid some necklace under his shirt.

"I brought you something, in case you feel hungry later..." I told him, putting it on his bedside table.

He looked at me for a moment that felt like an hour, and I was struck once again by those eyes. That energy. So _blue_, stark against his black clothes and yellow hair. I was captivated, and glad when he turned away to look back out the window. It was dark out there; I knew he couldn't see anything. He was just staring. Thinking hard, but trying to stop. Trying not to cry, maybe?

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable (and also feeling a bit of gamer's withdrawal, having not played anything at all during dinner), I hunkered down in front of my game again.

Two hours passed in a pixilated blur. He hadn't moved, and I was feeling a strange combination of admiration towards him and worry for his mental state. Admiration because of the attention span he was displaying, worry because he still wasn't moving.

But I enjoyed his silent company. The one thing about having a video game obsession is that it gets lonely. Everyone else in the House was too busy to play with me. I mean, I liked and needed (a lot of) time alone, but I didn't like _always_ being alone.

Anyway, I liked him being there, despite the fact that he never said a word.

Very, very late that night, I saw him make a quick pass through the bathroom and then go to bed. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, beating the level I was on and barely noticing as I did. Before I even thought about it I was going to bed, too. It was strange; like a reflex action.

I found myself watching him and I burrowed into my covers. His blond hair was spread out over his pillow where he curled up on his bed. I couldn't help but wonder if he was still awake. If not, why wasn't he crying? Was he like me? Had his parents thrown him around, too, so he didn't mind them being dead? But why, then, had he spent _hours_ staring at nothing through a dark window?

Maybe he was just stronger than most of the other kids here.

Or maybe he was just _awake,_ still. But what would I do if he was? Have a conversation with Silent Boy? Funny thought.

I wondered what his voice was like, then wondered why I wondered it.

As a self-imposed insomniac, I had no trouble staying awake to watch him. At about 2 A.M., though, when I knew I should have been getting at least a little sleepy because that was usually when I turned in, I was wide-awake.

Sleep was impossible, and Mello's breathing had evened out so I'd lost my chance to talk to him.

- - -

The sun rose hours later, illuminating his hair and skin and making him unbearably lovely. I wanted to touch his face, but the thought of those bright blue eyes snapping open and glaring at me terrified me. _That_ would certainly be a great way to start off with a roommate.

I rolled onto my back, my neck muscles appreciating the change, and rubbed my eyes. When I next looked over, he was sitting up.

I was _so_ glad he hadn't woken to find me staring.


	5. Chapter 5

**Mello:  
**He stayed there, staring at me a few seconds before going back to his games. I surprised myself wishing he would say something, then being afraid that he did. Would I be able to keep my tears from falling, if I heard his voice?  
That's when I realised I didn't want to cry anymore. Just like that. The pain was still here, but I didn't feel oppressed by it. I finally could breathe, noticing I kept on holding my breath regularly, causing my head to feel dizzy.

Matt played during hours. And my mind looped with the same thoughts again and again, softly lulled by the repetitive music of something called Space Invader on the screen. Yes, I have a very good peripheral view, that I was actually using to observe him. My father used to say that was one more of my feminine traits. Soon my thoughts took an entirely different way, and I was thankful for that.

Thankful to Matt. He was able, at least for now, to hook my thought on him. First, I wondered how he could play during hours without moving. Didn't his ass hurt after sitting on the floor for so long? He was even skinnier than me, that is to say something, so he couldn't really relay on a natural padded area to prevent the ground for hurting his butt. What was I thinking? Not only could he drag my thoughts to him, but to very awkward topics.

So I stayed there, studying him from the corner of my eye. That red hair, I wondered if it was his natural color. It was so... red. Not a blood red, neither orangey or faded brown, just that dark copper color that was reflecting so well in the light that it seemed to burn like a chimney fire, with all the shades and the wavering of flames. Red. Matt red, that's how I decided to call it.  
Not that I believed that someone of our age (well, he seemed to be the same age as me at least) would dye his hair, particularly not a boy.

I wondered what was the color of his eyes. It hadn't shocked me at first because he made it work so well that it wasn't stirring attention that much, but he wore goggles. Orange goggles. Did he like planes or something like that?  
It didn't look like something medical for his eyes, it seemed more of a fancy to me since they were a bit big on him.  
But maybe it was, I couldn't believe his eyes wouldn't be damaged by such a focus on a TV screen.

Staring at him indirectly, I was astonished by his gaming skills. His fingers were moving so fast I almost didn't see them move at all, and he passed stages one after the other without any problem. For the two hours that I observed him playing, he never lost once.

But what really, really marvelled me was that even if he seemed utterly and totally focused on his game, I had the impression that he was still paying attention to me. For an instant, I felt like I wasn't the only one to have feminine traits. Being able to multitask is a girl thing, right?

As much as I wanted to talk to him, I felt like I shouldn't break in his personal bubble. Like if being silent would preserve the illusion of not being alone. Maybe he would just silence me so he could play in peace, if I tried to talk?

For some reason, he didn't seem the type to snap at people. There was a calm and strong aura emanating from him, something I've never seen before. My mother was calm, but sensitive and easily emotional, my father was strong but very active, always on the move and easily irritable. He could have angers like you wouldn't imagine. It was scary. He would break things, and people too. He would look at you, if you were the motive of his fury, and you felt like you would die from the daggers in his eyes. Only my mother could calm him down. She just had to touch him, put her hand on his arm, and then he would switch off, instantly. That always amazed me, this power she had on him.

Matt seemed to me like someone collected, not easily unfocused (I bet Wammy's could burn and he would still finish his stage before leaving the fire), and calm, so calm. No. Not calm, but serene. Like if he didn't feel sorrow or anything bad. There was something emanating from him, it was paradoxical because he was spreading silence, dripping tranquillity, flooding the place with a comforting nothingness.  
For the first time since I became an orphan, I felt something positive.

Since I felt a bit better, I decided I could try to get some rest. I felt awfully tired, and it was a great change compared to the sleepless nights I had had lately. I attributed this to the fact that my brain somehow stopped roaring like a dragster on a straight line, for once.  
I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face and slid under the covers, trying to make myself comfortable in this unknown bed, as Matt stood up from the rug in front of his TV and went to bed too.  
It made me a bit anxious, because I had thought I could actually fall asleep before the room went dark.  
I didn't know what I would do in the dark, in this new place. I was afraid to be afraid... stupid.

Somehow, I wanted to believe that he was going to bed because I was, and didn't want to disturb my sleep. I needed to believe in comforting illusions.

But as soon as he shut the lights, I wasn't afraid, I was purely freaking out. He was watching me, I could feel it in my back. He wouldn't hurt me, I kinda knew it (they wouldn't keep psychos here, would they?) but why was he staring at me like this? My nerves decided I wouldn't sleep immediately, as I tried not to twitch or move in any way.

The way Matt breathed sometimes made me think he was preparing himself to talk, like when people inhale a bit before uttering a prepared sentence. So I waited. But as much as I did, he didn't speak. Just the fact that I believed he wanted to say something lulled me little by little until I dozed off. Killers don't have a conversation with their victim before killing them in their sleep, do they?

"Hi, I'm gonna kill you later, but what about chatting a bit for now? What's your name? Oh nice, mine is Matt the Ripper..."

- - -

I slept straight through the night, without any dream or nightmare, and woke up because a ray of sun was heating my face. There were no curtains, no blinds, now that I thought about it.

I sat up in my bed, and felt incredibly good after such a good rest. And then reality came back like a slap.  
I hugged my knees, staring at my feet real hard as the lump in my throat came back.  
I knew he was staring, but he quickly got up and even if I didn't raise my head, I heard the shower so I knew he had left his spot.

I went in the bathroom when he came back, just so I would avoid his gaze longer.  
When I came out, dressed and my hair still damp, I grabbed the piece of chocolate cake he had brought me the evening before. Although my stomach ached, I didn't feel the hunger. But I didn't want Matt to believe his attention went to waste, so I ate it.

"Don't you prefer having breakfast downstairs?" he asked me. I shook my head. Not only would I have eaten enough with that enormous slice of cake, but I wasn't ready to confront with anyone. It was already hard to look at him, how would I look at others without faltering?  
Although I suspected that looking at him was nothing like looking at all those uninteresting people. Despite the goggles, that he had probably taken off before taking a shower, but had still on before and after he went to the bathroom, unfortunately, his gaze was disturbing.

Matt's eyes seemed to tell me, for the two times I really happened to look at them: "Don't lie, don't hide, I see who you are." I felt nude under his eyes.

I took back my spot in front of the window, making him understand I wouldn't follow him. He left for breakfast, and I once again grabbed my rosary. But this time, I was a bit confused as what to pray for.

The bell ringing the beginning of classes resounded a little later, and I reluctantly dragged myself out of the safety of the room, plastering a scowl on my face and holding my head up, as I searched and found the room for my first lesson of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Matt**  
I wasn't thrilled about this 'attending class' nonsense, but it had been a while since I had showed up to this particular class and the teacher was starting to get annoyed. If I got kicked out of Wammy's (which I wouldn't- realistically, you had to be like that psycho B to get kicked out, but still), I had nowhere else to go. I wouldn't survive well on the streets. No outlets.

Anyway, the bell rang, and I slumped over in my chair, already bored. Maybe I'd just sleep through this one. It still technically counted as showing up, but I didn't have to do the mind-numbing part. My grade was still good enough that I could probably be just fine... and it's not like I would be dropping a rank, even if I _tried_...

Suddenly, all my senses screeched to a screaming halt. Confused, I cast about for some kind of trigger for this strange occurrence, nearly ripping off my goggles for some inexplicable reason. Even if I didn't study, I was plenty observant, so what had changed?!

I blinked as I realized that everyone was staring at the doorway.

Mello stood there, scowling in a way so forced that it wrapped around and became convincing, and glared right back at everyone in the room. His gaze never faltered.

I sensed a collective shrinking back from the students in the room. Mello was terrifying. He looked like he could kill you where you stood... or just make you wish you were dead. Like he could run intellectual circles around you. Like he didn't need you, didn't need to be there, and didn't even need _food, _or water, or shelter... he barely looked human. He almost looked like a panther, a demon. A demon saying the Our Father...

Interesting.

I watched him as he glided across the room, how his shoulder blades moved, glowing with confidence and power, and took the empty seat next to me, dominating it instantly. He owned the chair, he owned the desk, he owned everyone in this room, and he owned the fucking room _itself_. That was the impression he gave, with just a simple, silent movement.

Wait. This was a top-level class in a _school_ of top-level classes.

...A _genius_ demon saying the Our Father...

_Fascinating._

There were plenty of open seats. Yet, he had sat down next to _me_.

I was aware that I was staring at him, but he was blatantly staring at me, too. When he looked at me, it was like I was the only human being in the world. It was like he understood me and simultaneously owned me.

His eyes froze me to my seat. I wouldn't have been able to stand if my life had depended on it.

"Uh... hi..." I managed, sounding exactly like the genius that I was.

He nodded, barely, in response, and then turned and faced the front of the room. As his attention went to the teacher (even she looked uncomfortable under his piercing gaze), so did the attention of the rest of the class. Everyone in the room instantly got smarter, more motivated. Maybe out of fear, but, at least for me, it was admiration.

I was also just generally pleased that he had sat down next to me, even with so many open spots next to guys and girls who were much more attractive than I was. I mean I wasn't _ugly_, but there were better choices around. So it wasn't because of _that_... and I knew already that he didn't care for me one way or the other, since he seemed to enjoy pretending I didn't exist, until now... so why...?

Mello made my brain hurt, was the long and short of it. I could _always_ figure people out.

Apparently not Mello.

But... I _liked_ him sitting next to me, just as much as I had liked him standing silently in our room. It felt more like _I _was sitting with _him _than like _he _was sitting with _me_. I felt... powerful, like a little bit of him had rubbed off on me, and I sat up a bit straighter in my seat. It was like I was his sidekick, somehow. Like he had picked me over everyone else, and that I had the privilege to sit at his side. I felt, for the first time in my life, special.

I didn't hear a word the teacher said (while Mello took flawless notes), but at least I didn't sleep. She even looked at me curiously a few times, then at Mello, hunched over his notebook, and then back at me. The teachers at Wammy's were brilliant, too, so she could probably see what was going on.

I jumped a mile straight into the air when the bell rang. Somehow, the entire period had gone by and it was now time for lunch. I turned to Mello, smiling, and opened my mouth to invite him to the cafeteria, but he was already out the door, probably headed for our room.

So much for _that_ idea.

So I trudged to lunch by myself, glancing over my shoulder for Linda. I could use her mindless drivel at a time like this. My brain was too full, and it wasn't a feeling I was used to, let alone comfortable with.

Except, when she found me and caught up with me, she was quiet and sad just when I needed her to be at her most obnoxious. She was the kind that, when she was really hurting, wouldn't tell you that anything was wrong unless you specifically asked. Had she gotten dumped? Did she have a boyfriend? I should really pay better attention, but I knew I wouldn't, because in the end I simply didn't care about her.

It made me desperately sad that I didn't care what was wrong with her. Maybe if I wasn't so fucking _numb_ all the time, I could be a better friend. Maybe I would have _a_ friend, in this entire place, if I was just capable of _feeling_ something. Anything.

My thoughts strayed back to Mello, and I realized that he wasn't coming down for lunch, and that he had eaten the cake I'd brought him. Did that mean he would accept a lunch, too, if I brought one?

I snarfed down my own food, grabbed a large sandwich (he was so skinny!) and bolted to our room, unbearably excited to see my silent roommate for reasons I couldn't _begin_ to explain.

I calmed myself before entering the room, forcing my face from manic back to its usual indifference. I knocked on our door, now totally mellow. I mean, chill. _Look at me, respecting your privacy_. There was no response, so I opened it and walked in.

He was standing at the window again, staring out it as if it held the answers to all the world's questions. Silently, I put the sandwich where I had put the cake. "It's for you," I said quietly. I stayed there for a moment, staring at his back (even his back seemed powerful, now that I'd seen him in motion). I almost said something more, but I changed my mind at the last moment before leaving as quietly as I had come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Mello**  
As much as I wanted to talk to him, I didn't, and he left just after depositing a sandwich on my night table. I know why I didn't: it seemed to me that I would break something if I did. The thin line between the impressions I had, like the fact he was paying attention to me (well, technically, he was, since he brought me food, but a tiny part of me couldn't help but think he did it to be in position to ask me something back later, yeah, I'm that paranoid, blame it on my education and previous life, my father told me often enough that people never do something for nothing), the fact we kind of understood each other without talking, the fact we respected each other's bubble. And also this impression of calm, serenity that exhaled from him.  
All of this was probably fake, and I didn't want to have the final proof of it, so I kept my mouth shut. The less we would interact, the longer my feelings would prevent from shattering in pieces, leaving place to disillusion and making the pain come back full force.  
Matt was my sedative, in this tough moment of my life.

Not really hungry, I kept on staring by the window, and went downstairs as the bell rang the beginning of the second period of classes of the day. Just like in the morning, I glared at everyone as I entered the classroom, and sat next to Matt again. But unlike in the morning, no one dared looking at me.  
Some tried to seem absorbed by their notebook, others by the text on the blackboard, a few ones stared forcibly by the window and the last ones almost convinced me they were really chatting innocently.  
No one dared looking at me, except Matt.

He stared, really, completely, his mouth hanging slightly open, not enough to make him look stupid, but enough so I knew he wasn't even aware that he was staring at me.  
But unlike the others' looks from this morning, and just like the way he had set his wide open eyes on me a few hours ago, I saw in these... beautiful, yes, beautiful, I can't help it, they truly are... I saw in these eyes more to feed my fake impressions, more than I could take, because it would only make the fall harder when I would realise I was wrong.

I didn't want to be wrong, I didn't want it, as strong as I wanted to keep looking at him. I was torn, my heart was screaming for him to tell me that what I saw in his eyes was true, but my mind was halting to a stop, making my brain speed screech like feet trying to stop a run, so before I smiled and gave myself away, I sat down and looked in front of me.  
I just had managed to make everyone believe that they'd better not mess up with me, it wasn't the moment to show any weakness and _smile_.

There was electricity in the air. The atmosphere was tensed, and I could tell by the attitude of the teacher that she wasn't used to that and so that I was the cause of it.  
I liked it. I felt powerful. And I understood the conversation I had with my parents one year ago. Or rather what a remark my father told me led to, as a conversation between my parents. Suddenly, their words found their meaning.

"Mihael, don't let my men talk to you this way. I won't always be there to protect you and put them back to their place, you need to make them respect you yourself."  
"Honey, he's so young, he'll have plenty of time for that later, let him be a child for now, ok?"  
"He has to learn. There is no age for power, and believe me, once he has tasted power, he'll like it, he's got it in his blood. He may be a pussy right now because of the too soft education you're giving him, but he'll like it, like a wolf that tastes blood, he'll want more."  
"God guard him from being like his father on this point..."

I knew right at that moment that I had lost my innocence. Forgive me mother, but I like blood...  
I knew... it echoed from the deepest of my core, this will, this strength, this... rage.  
I scared myself in the space of half a second, the power of the feelings that suddenly crept in me tightened my guts. I wasn't willing to just lull my pain anymore, I wanted to share it. No, not sit and talk and try to ease it out. Hurt, make it feel to others, use this power I had just gained to stir something from others here: fear, tears, pleads.  
I felt good just by thinking I could do that.  
I finally had something to protect myself, I wasn't the weak little thing anymore, the one Mafia men would make fun of, the one that lost his parents and hurt about it. I was Mello. Mihael was gone.

I scared myself anyway for half a second, as I said, when I realised all that, and instinctively turned to Matt. Just when our eyes met I looked away when I came back to my senses and noticed what I just did, but we shared a look long enough to puzzle me.  
In half a second he silently told me I was important to him. How do I know?  
With my oh-so-good peripheral vision, I have observed him enough to know how his eyes look like and the expressions they cast. Not many. And there is only another single moment when his eyes light up this way, just like they did when looking at me. Video games.

And this gave me a new kind of strength. Totally different from my thirst of blood.  
He gave me support. He cradled my rage in the pool of his irises, turning it to a peaceful water. Just like that.  
God, what did you put into this human being sat beside me? He seemed like a concentrate of a splashing bucket of cold water in your face, a warm blanket encircling your shoulders, and a voice singing a sweet lullaby...  
All at once, calming you from any vehemence you could have.

As soon as the last class ended, I headed for our shared bedroom, silently wishing he would follow, but he disappeared.  
So I just climbed the stairs and closed the door behind me, wondering where he was. He couldn't possibly be in the library, he didn't seem to be the type to study consciously, and what else could he do except playing his games?

Being hungry since I didn't eat at noon, I grabbed the sandwich Matt had brought me and ate it, standing at my usual spot in front of the window.

My mind began to roar again, wanting to break free and work full speed again. My munching and the slow arrival of food in my stomach woke up all the fibers in my body, and I inevitably started to think, losing myself in the flow of images and feelings present in my mind.  
I suddenly realised, first that I didn't know much about him and wanted to know more, and second, that maybe he had a girlfriend and was with her at the moment.  
And it's only when I felt pain in my palms that I realised I had clenched my fists so hard at this thought that my nails had drew blood.  
Why was I so worked up that he had a girlfriend? I've been called gay many times, but to tell the truth, I considered myself way too young for sexual aspects of life. I thought nothing of sex, be it with girls or boys. And I knew that calling me gay was probably just more of an insult than the statement of an actual fact. It was the way my father's men had to degrade me, because they considered like real men, ones that have _balls_, like they said.

No, if he had a girlfriend, then it was ruining the idea of a special bond between him and me, because he would have a special bond with his girlfriend, right? That's how it works when you're in love with someone that loves you back, right?  
It was ruining more than that. It was giving him _life_.  
A life out of this room, out of classes, out of video games, and out of my sight.  
And I understood I wanted to own him. Completely.  
It frustrated me deeply.

And that's the moment that albino boy called Near, the one ranked first here, chose to knock and enter the room.  
First, it pissed me off that he dared entering without waiting for my authorization.  
Second, he was weird, silent, always curling a lock of his hair around his finger in class, and he was the only other one that could answer all the teachers' questions except me, and I hated his concurrence in the attention of everyone.  
So as soon as he set a foot in the room, I crossed the space between him and me, and he didn't have the time to finish his sentence, asking me where I came from and how my parents died (God, it that how you introduce yourself to people you don't know?) with his monotonous voice, that I pushed him hard outside, and slammed the door on him as he laid on his back on the floor, not caring that the door hurt his foot that was in the way.

But when I came back in front of the window, I saw Matt. He was smoking, hidden under a bush. That's when I knew he had been there all the time, and I didn't notice earlier. The bush had swayed many times, and that's only now that I realised that there wasn't any wind outside.  
He was alone.  
And I almost fell guilty for being so rude to Near, now that I was looking at Matt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Matt**  
I already knew that I wanted to skip classes the next day, but for some reason the fact that Mello and I had some together made that option, well, not an option. I couldn't get that look he'd given me out of his head. When he'd walked into the room, the scowl had been forced. Then he'd sat down next to me. We'd stared at each other for a few minutes. Then, just a little while later, he looked at me again, and his eyes had totally changed.

The scowl hadn't been forced anymore, and for the briefest of moments, I had seen fear. I didn't get it. How could someone change so fast?

I stamped my cigarette out on the bottom of my shoe and flicked it behind a bush, where I knew no one would ever look. The gardener was an old lady who smoked and for some reason thought it was cute that I did too. She would never tell on me. Sometimes she even _gave_ me cigarettes. If she told on me, I'd tell on her. Mutually assured destruction.

Roger would kill me if he found out.

Anyway.

I dashed to my room and snuck in, hoping Mello wouldn't be exactly where I knew he _would_ be.

Naturally, he was. Standing by the window, as always, never moving. He gave me a long look when I entered the room and rushed straight into our small closet, picking out a new shirt. The one I had been wearing smelled too much like smoke. This was my ritual to hide my extracurricular activities from Roger. Because I wasn't joking about the "he'd kill me" thing. Not only would he kill me, but he'd do it slowly.

I changed quickly. When I looked back at Mello, he gave me a long look, straight into my goggle-shielded eyes. They told me immediately that he had seen me smoking. I tilted my head in a silent question, not wanting to break the quiet between us with which he seemed so comfortable. So... dependant on.

Maybe it was better that he didn't talk. He couldn't really be what I thought he was. If he talked, it would just shatter the illusion, and then he probably wouldn't be able to stand me. There was no way he really had that power over the rest of the room that I, for some reason, associated with him. Although the teacher _had_ been terribly uncomfortable... and the students hadn't spoken a word...

As a response, he did nothing more than look back out that damn window. I felt a little colder without his cold gaze. That made no sense, but facts were facts.

I actually managed to sleep that night, probably as a result of staying awake all night the night before.

Not, however, before Mello fell asleep in his bed.

- - -

It was time for class, and he didn't seem to be moving. "Hey... don't tell Roger, okay? About me smoking? And, um, we have another class," I told him quietly. "It switches off, so different days have different classes..." He looked at me. "Um... it's psych, for me. What do you have now?"

He fiddled around in his pockets for a moment, then pulled out his class schedule. He handed it to me, never looking away.

I unfolded the paper and skimmed it. We had mostly the same classes, and right now he had psychology with me. "Oh, cool!" I said, unreasonably excited. "We have it together! Hey, you can follow me to it so that you don't have to wander around the hallway." I grinned at him. "I remember my first day. I got _so lost_." I laughed nervously. The man simply wouldn't speak, and it made me babble like an idiot.

He gave me a look I couldn't describe, but when I turned to leave, feeling awkward, he followed.

Walking down the hallway, surrounded by other people, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that his stride changed. Interesting. He began to walk as he had when he came into the last class. With that power and that confidence again.

And I was proud to be standing next to him, walking in my slumpy, gangly way with my hands shoved into my pockets, because it felt like I belonged there.

The moment was shattered by hurried footsteps I knew all too well. No one else in this place walked quite like Linda did. Especially when she was about to hug me from behind.

"Maaaaatt!" Linda cheered, grabbing me from behind, just as I predicted. "Matt, I have the coolest thing to tell you!"

Mello stiffened next to me, and I realized with a jolt that I was being rude. That was odd, because I usually didn't care about things like that. Of _course _it would be uncomfortable for you if some strange girl just glomped the only guy you know, out of nowhere, when you don't even know her name.

"Hey, Linda. This is Mello, my roommate."

Linda blinked at Mello as if she hadn't noticed him standing there when she'd assaulted me. Then she brightened. "Oh! Hey, Mello!"

He nodded slightly.

"And, Mello, this is my, uh..." Could I really call her my friend? When I hadn't known, just hours ago, why she was so upset? And worse, when I hadn't even _cared_? I had to. "...my friend, Linda."

Something flickered across Mello's face too quickly for me to read, so I dismissed it. It was probably just a reaction to her... extroverted nature... because she immediately situated herself between him and me and began to talk a million miles an hour about something I certainly didn't care about. The sight of them standing side by side was so funny that I could have laughed out loud. Both blond, both thin, both on the short side, but so different that cohabitation would have been completely impossible. I would have to explain that to Linda later, because I could clearly see hatred or at least a huge amount of annoyance emanating from Mello, directed squarely in her direction. She, of course, was oblivious.

For such a smart girl, she really could be stupid. I had to get them away from each other before something terrible happened. Mello could probably beat the crap out of her, and I didn't think he would pull his punches just because she was a girl. He seemed equal-opportunities like that. He would get in so much trouble.

So, to alleviate a potentially deadly situation, I said, "Hey, Linda, why don't I walk with you to your class and you can tell me that thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Okay!" she chirped.

"Mello, the class is right there." I indicated it with my head. "I'll be there in a minute."

He didn't even nod- he just walked straight into our class, using the panther-walk again. A tingle went down my spine at that, and, when the door closed behind him, I immediately wished I was there instead of where I was. The energy level just wasn't the same.

But no, I had to walk with Linda. She really needed a new best friend. A girl, for example, would probably be ideal.

I didn't even listen when she told her story. It was something that was, to me, completely unimportant. What did catch my ear, however, was what she said as I was coming up with a way to escape her conversational clutches.

"You were right. He's totally gay."

My attention was on her immediately. "You really think so?"

"I _know _so. My gaydar totally went off when I saw him. Even if you hadn't told me, I would have known. He's scary, though."

"I know."

I looked at the hallway clock and saw that I only had a minute left if I wanted to get to class on time. For the first time ever, I _did_ want to. "See you later," I told her. She replied with something equally meaningless, and I dashed off to psych.

Without even thinking about it, I passed by all the empty seats and sat down right next to Mello.


	9. Chapter 9

**Mello**  
I had only half a second to compose myself a blank face as I heard the footsteps I already had learnt to recognize among all people here, as anger made place to panic when I realized that Matt would soon see what I just had done.  
Moreover, he had to sit next to me among all free seats in the classroom.  
Well, if he hadn't, I would have been disappointed and I knew it, so it was no need to argue the fact that he did as I felt his gaze on me, as I made my best to stare at my notebook. But the page was blank, and there could unfortunately be no pretending.  
I quickly glanced at him. I didn't want to, but my eyes betrayed me. His usually calm stare didn't falter, strangely. His eyes roamed from my own eyes to my hands to the boy sat just in front of me, that was rubbing his cheek and erasing the blood from his lips. Then, extending his gaze, he looked around at all the students, then back at me.

And although his eyes betrayed nothing, neither fear or reproach, I knew he couldn't have missed the blood still staining my knuckles, and relate to the horror in the other kids' eyes and the boy wiping his mouth and rubbing his now blue cheek in the front row, understanding what I had done.

To my surprise, the guy I had punched didn't complain to any of the adults, and the other kids didn't dare saying a word or look at me. I could smell the fear, and I would almost salivate, tasting it like a sweet pleasure, if I hadn't felt so guilty from the moment Matt had entered the classroom.  
I had punched this fat chubby boy who was standing in the way, obviously seeing me but not moving, as I entered the class while Matt ran after Linda. I don't know why I had reacted so violently, I could feel frustration built inside of me without a reason, and I couldn't help myself, I had to take it out on someone, I needed to.  
I still could feel my fist connecting with his jaw, the blow half softened by his chubby face. Disgusting.

Matt suddenly handed me a paper tissue as the teacher came in. I nodded gratefully and erased the blood from my hand.  
The injured boy was sent to the sick bay after he said he just fell in the stairs, and the class began in silence.

I almost started when the bell of the end of the first period rang. I've been so lost in my thoughts that I scolded myself from not paying attention, as I gathered my stuff.  
My mind had quickly gave up the fight somewhere along the second hour of lessons, as I played the events just before class in the morning. Matt's smile, Matt's laughter, it had stirred something in me. My brain was trying to analyse the feeling as I could only picture these images in my mind, unable to put the finger on what it made to me exactly.  
But each time I was close to it, Linda's face came up front and ruined it all. I hated her.

I headed for our shared room, Matt not bothering asking me if I was going to the dining room but giving me a long look before heading in the opposite direction.  
Standing by the window, it took me an hour and half to figure things out. So much for being a genius.  
I was jealous. No, worse than that, I was feeling left behind.  
Matt had clearly dismissed me to go with that chick, stupidity made girl, and if I was jealous from the moment she had stood between us, invading my private space and cutting the bond between him and me, I felt totally rejected by him as he followed her, encouraging me to enter the classroom so I wouldn't be in their way.

The idea that he could have secrets he would share with her, and that I wouldn't know about, drove me mad. I needed release once again. But punching someone wasn't an option, I knew I couldn't get away with that each time.  
I decided to head for the orphanage's kitchens. The staff was in the dining room, serving the students, and I had enough time to grab some chocolate bars from a cupboard before climbing the stairs to the bedroom back up.

Snapping large chunks of one of the bars, the effect on me was immediate, and after a few bites, I felt better.  
Hearing the bell ring the second period, I shoved the rest of the chocolate in my mouth and quickly checked where I had to go before exiting the dorms.

I was extremely sad when I realised that Matt wasn't having this class with me. I wondered what he was having as a class, and if I would see him in the next one. That was the moment that this stupid chick Linda chose to almost shriek in my right ear as she got in the classroom, excited to see that we had this class together. Oh yeah, what an excitement to have to bear with this blond aberration an hour long...  
I sent her the coldest gaze I had in stock, and it shut her up immediately. I think I even heard her whimper as she reached for the farthest seat from mine.  
I don't want to have anything to do with her, unless to hit her, kick her, step on her or push her in the closest wall.

To my horror, the second period never happened to be shared with Matt, and I may have had some kind of annoyance on my face when the last class ended, since all the kids almost glued themselves back to the wall as I crossed the corridors back to the bedroom.  
Satisfied when I caught some stripes among the leaves of the bush under the window, I sat at my desk and started to study.  
This Near was first, but he wouldn't be for long. Matt was second, to my surprise. I briefly wondered when he had time to study since he seemed to be playing video games all the time. It just added to the attraction I felt for his person that he just didn't seem to need to study, he was smart like that.  
Or maybe everyone else was so stupid that he, as a normal person, didn't have to make any effort to be second.  
No, scratch that, I didn't even believe it myself.

Even if I wanted to believe to my illusions and was afraid that they shattered, it was too gross to be that way. It's a place for gifted children, they can't be stupid (well, except Linda, that is.)

And suddenly, panic attacked me again. If I wanted to beat Near, that meant beating Matt. Would he hate me for that?  
I stood up and looked by the window, trying to tame my irrational thoughts as I grabbed a chocolate bar.  
But panic melted as Matt appeared from the bush he had been smoking in and rose his head in my direction, waving at me with a cocky grin before leaving.


	10. Chapter 10

**Matt**  
When I sat down, I was, for some reason, completely unsurprised to see that Mello had punched Jacob in the face. It wasn't hard to figure out that it was him, seeing as how all the other kids were staring at Mello with a horror that I simply didn't feel. I wasn't a violent person, although I knew how all the bruises on Jacob's face were going to feel in a few hours courtesy of my loving father and doting mother, and I still didn't care.

I looked into his eyes, trying to figure out what had provoked him, but he gave me no indication, instead watching me searchingly, as if he thought I was going to yell at him.

I fished a tissue out of my pocket and handed it to him as the teacher walked in to start the class.

I spent the first few minutes of class looking at Jacob. Mello must have hit him pretty hard, because he kept wiping his mouth. I knew from experience that that meant his teeth had probably cut into his cheek. I wondered if he had lost any teeth. He may need stitches, depending on exactly how pissed off Mello had been when he punched him.

The teacher finally noticed the state Jacob was in. "What happened to you?" she asked, appalled.

"I, uh, had a disagreement with the stairs. The stairs won."

The class laughed nervously but the teacher didn't seem to notice that there was something only _she_ didn't know.

"All right, can you get to the nurse? Do you need someone to come with you?"

Jacob picked Kayla (it was common knowledge that he liked her, and even _more_ common knowledge that he didn't have a chance with her) and they left, and class was boring again.

As the teacher rambled on about... what class was this? Oh, right, psychology... I realized with a jolt of confusion that Mello was now completely calm.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He _was_ calm. He was watching the teacher intently, focused on the lesson. Or on something else, but I couldn't imagine what.

He jumped a little when the bell rang, so he must not have been paying attention to the actual class. I hadn't been either, of course, but that was _me_. Whatever was on Mello's mind had to be pretty engrossing.

I suddenly realized that he hadn't screamed in his sleep the night before, which could only mean one thing- that his parents had been like mine. Only the pampered and loved kids screamed in their sleep- the rest of us were glad to be away from them. Maybe Mello was just a classic case of misdirected anger, reaction formation... maybe physical violence was a psychological defense mechanism...

Regardless, he didn't follow me to the dining room. He was going to have to come with me, at some point, or his PR was going to continue to suffer. They had to see what I could see in him- that beautiful power, reflected in his movements and his eyes. Which they would never see if they only ever saw him in class.

Of course, if other people befriended him, I'd lose my self-appointed position as sidekick.

Woah, stopping that line of thought. Creepy, possessive roommate, much? I couldn't let myself think like that. He'd eventually make other friends here, and I'd have to be ready for that. And he probably didn't even consider me his friend, anyway, since he wouldn't even talk to me.

After I ate, which was severely unexciting, I slipped out for a smoke under my favorite bush. It was the best place in the world to think, which I did sometimes, believe it or not. Today was not one of those days, however, and time passed with almost no cognizant thought from me.

I was surprised that I happened to feel done just as the last class of the day was ending. I popped up out of my bush and was met with Mello, on the other side of the window. I grinned, waved, and walked away, in order to go around the House and come in through a different entrance, so that my secret place wouldn't be discovered. It was also a shortcut, and since I had satisfied the nicotine itch, I now needed to satisfy the itchier itch- video games. I swung by the cafeteria and grabbed a plate of chicken breast. They tended to leave food there for a long time, in case any student chose to skip a meal in favor of studying. Like L often did. It roused a little wave of annoyance that, in me, passed for anger. _We weren't L_. When were they gonna realize that? None of us of any rank _could_ be, especially not Near, who was colder than even me. I wasn't L's biggest worshipper- I didn't see him like all the other kids here saw him- but I didn't hate him either, and I could be objective about this. No one but L was ever going to be able to do it. He should stop trying to find an heir, because it was never going to happen. Especially if _I_ was one of his top choices. I was the only one here who would actually turn him down if he picked me.

Because L had given up too much. He didn't have time for things he loved, like video games. He didn't have any _friends_. Neither did I, of course, but since we were talking about _L_ and not _me _that was beside the point. L didn't even have a Linda- some annoying girl that followed him around. I didn't even _like_ having a Linda, but I understood that it was important. Dislike is an emotion, too, and I needed more of those.

Thinking about this, I automatically looked at the window that I had come to associate with my roommate. No Mello. I put his food down on his bedside table.

Sighing, I sat on my bed and flopped down on it, on my back, with my hands folded under my head, to stare at the ceiling. It was an unremarkable ceiling, but for some reason it captured my attention that day. It occurred to me that I could have been playing video games at that moment, but I wasn't in the mood. I ignored the thought poking at my brain that it was because Mello wasn't there. It was a stupid thought, anyway, since I'd been playing video games with no trouble from the first moment I'd arrived here and some kid named Tyler, graduated now, had handed me a Game Boy Pocket.

"HOLY SHIT!"

I actually fell off the bed when I saw Mello, who had been sitting at our desk this entire time, apparently writing something. He whipped around, startled, already in an offensive stance. Then he saw me on the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Note: **__Hey! It seems this story isn't interesting enough for people to review, that's sooooo annoying, you may not get the juicy chapters that are already written for later XD  
Just kidding!!! We won't stop because we don't get reviews, but you know, it's nice to get some, just so we know what you think of the story, what makes you laugh or cry, what you dislike etc... You used to review a LOT on You've Got Mail and Peeping Tom, is this new story so awfully bad? XD  
xBBx  


* * *

_**Mello**  
I jumped two miles high at the scream that resounded behind me. I was immediately ready to fight, the worst scenarii running as fast as lightning in my mind about what this cry was for. Murder? Ghost? Accident? Whatever it was, I would have faced it, adrenaline already pumping in my veins like the Niagara Falls.  
My eyes roamed over the room as I turned around on my wheeled desk chair, and found Matt sprawled on his back on the carpet, looking at me like if _I _was a ghost. My heart rate decreased slowly as I stared for a few seconds, unsure of what had caused him to scream like this, and half amused by his stance. I couldn't help a smirk spread at the corner of my mouth as he stood up, grinning, and mumbled: "Huh... sorry... I didn't see you sat here, I was... surprised...".

I guess it was fair... I've been standing in front of the window each time he saw me in our shared bedroom so it was unusual for me to be sitting at the desk. Not that he could have guessed that I would need to study at some point, but oh well.

I stood too when I saw something on the floor at the exact place his butt had fallen. Picking it up, I handed him what looked like broken pieces of plastic.  
His frown told me it had to be something important, because he looked utterly disappointed, holding the damaged device in his palm. Then he sniffled and turned around, but I didn't miss the way he pulled up his goggles, wiped his eyes and put the orange lenses back in place.

I felt a pang in my chest, but quickly dismissed it. He obviously didn't want my sympathy since he was turning his back on me, and it's not like he cared, we weren't friends, he had made it clear. Linda was his friend, I was only his roommate. He didn't want to share his secrets with me, only with that bitch, so he could cry over his broken game, I didn't give a fuck.

I felt anger rise in my guts, and tried to breathe in and out to will it away. I had work to do, it wasn't the time to lose focus. I sat back at the desk and dove in my homework. I was amazed at how many exercises I had to do for the next day, it was the equivalent of a week of homework at my Berlin school.

Three hours later, I had finally finished my homework and learnt every lesson I had to. Hopefully, my mind only needed one or two readings to retain the informations.  
Stirring, my back cracking from being hunched over my books for too long, I wondered why Matt had been so silent all this time.  
Standing up, I saw that he was asleep, fully clothed, on his bed.  
It was already late, and I felt tired myself, but I couldn't miss this occasion of looking at him more carefully.

He had his goggles off, deposited on his bedside table. I cursed inwardly. For once, he wasn't wearing them, but his eyes were closed since he was sleeping, so I would never have a chance to see his eyes. I wasn't even sure which color they were.  
Why did I care anyway?  
But I couldn't take my eyes off him, and studied his features as well as I could, the only light coming from the little lamp on the desk a few meters away.

His skin was pale, not sickly pale, just porcelain white. It reminded me of my mother's skin, she looked so delicate...  
His cheekbones were high, they were probably the reason why his eyes always looked like they were smiling. His eyelashes were extremely long for a guy. Was that why he hid behind goggles? Did he find himself too girly?  
His lips were contrasting with his pale complexion, they were a light peachy pink, and I wondered briefly how his parents looked like. They were probably really beautiful, since he was.

What was I thinking?!  
_That_ would probably have earned me to be called a natural born fag, had my father's henchmen seen me now...

I moved from my spot, reaching for the food he had left for me on my night table, and ate it quickly. Why did he do that? Did he think I was too stupid to feed myself? He didn't care about me, so he was probably trying to buy me, right?

I brushed my teeth and, as I was making myself ready to go to bed, I finally decided to take his shoes off and pull his blanket over him the best I could since he was laying on top of it. There, you brought me food, I help you not to get cold, I guess we're even for this time.

- - -

I woke up to the sound of steps in the corridor. Glancing at the clock, I realised it was already 10am. Oh, that's true, we're saturday, we don't have classes on week ends...  
Suddenly, I panicked. Free time? What would I do? What was I supposed to do?  
I looked at the other bed. Matt was still sleeping, in the exact same position I had left him the evening before. God, what a sound sleeper he was!  
But he wasn't long to move and stir slowly, the elephant steps on the other side of the door able to wake the Dead anyway.

Once he realised he was still fully clothed, he took a few seconds to register he was shoeless and partly covered.  
He smiled at me.

And I felt a blush creep on my cheeks as I realised his eyes were open, goggles-less and directed straight at me in the most genuine expression I had ever seen. They were blue.

I looked away, and hopped out of bed and into the shower.  
Once I was done, he followed.  
I waited for him, I don't know why, but for some reason, I was terrified to spent this week end alone. Maybe I could follow him discreetly, trying to find out what people here did on week ends?  
The idea of studying the whole time didn't appeal to me that much. No, scratch that. I was eager to know more of Matt's life, what he did except playing video games... the rest was just an excuse. I _needed_ to know.

As he slumped out of the bathroom, and to the bedroom door, he looked at me blankly. When I stood up from my bed to follow him, his eyes lit up though. Even through the goggles I could see it. It was not only in his eyes, it was like he stood straighter all of a sudden, like if his ragdoll body was suddenly pulled by invisible strings from above.

We crossed the corridor, and for some reason, walking side by side with him seemed right. I looked at him, and he looked back at me. And right at that moment, I could have sworn that my illusions became reality, just for a split second.

As we entered the dining room for breakfast, or should I say brunch, since obviously on week ends, we could eat anytime between morning and noon, all eyes were on us. I stared back, straightening even more, and they all looked away. Adrenaline came back rushing. The place suddenly smelled of fear, and I felt all my muscles tingle, my jaw clench and my eyes narrow. God, how I loved this feeling...

I grabbed some food, mostly chocolate cake, chocolate milk and a fruit, and, although I probably looked like I was ignoring Matt, as I sat at a table without even looking at him behind me, he sat across me, and began eating like he didn't see the glances we were getting or if we had done that all our life.

And then came the bitch...


	12. Chapter 12

**Matt**  
Saturdays are the sweetest things known to man. There is almost nothing better than the beauty of a day off. Snow days were the only thing that could ever be better, but those were never an issue in Wammy's since we all lived there. But days off... weekends and holidays... a whole twenty-four hours to yourself, to do whatever you want, not even having to go through the effort of skipping class... it was good. For someone like Mello, it was probably further proof of the existence of God. To me, it was just proof that not everything in life does, in fact, suck.

And it didn't hurt that I had woken up to Mello, either. Who wouldn't want to wake up to that? Or that he had followed me down the stairs (and to the cafeteria! Where there were _other people!_). I could stand up a little straighter, walk a little more confidently. Because Mello was _right there_ and that sidekick vibe came to me again.

As we walked together, I tried to ignore the little tingly feeling in my gut that I got when I realized he had covered me up in my depression-of-losing-Game-Boy-induced sleep

Everyone was staring at us, and Mello's whole body tensed like a cat's. It was scary and I adored it because it was aimed at everyone in the room... except for me. He didn't look at me as he sat down at a random table, and he didn't need to. I knew he intended for me to sit across from him. He didn't need to say it. Didn't even need to look at me. Maybe it was masochistic of me, but being _expected_ like that... _owned _like that... it was a delicious feeling. I could seriously get used to that.

It was going to be a good day, despite what my butt had done to my Game Boy the night before.

Or, that's what I thought until Linda sat down next to me.

If Mello had been tense before, now he was a stone. He didn't move, he didn't look at her, he didn't touch his food. He stared a hole into a spot on the table just a little above his tray. I saw that his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails must have been drawing blood. Must have been.

I looked at Linda, then at Mello again. Sure, she could be annoying, but that was _hatred_ I was seeing in Mello's ice-cold eyes. What could she have done to incite _hatred_ after so little time? Actual hatred!

It occurred to me that I should listen to what she was saying so that I would know when to grab Mello by the wrists to stop him from beating her into a bloody pulp and getting in trouble. It was a distinct possibility.

Good, she was only talking to _me_ at the moment. "Matt," she wined. "He's being _mean_ to me."

"Um... who?"

"Travis! Weren't you listening?"

"Yes," I lied.

She pouted and wrapped herself around my arm, putting her head on my shoulder. "Maaaaatt, make him _stop_. He keeps calling me names and he's mean and I don't like it. He's always like, 'Hey Linda, you're ugly' when I spend more time on my hair and 'Hey Linda, what's that, a dog?' when I draw a landscape and stuff and it hurts my feelings!"

Urg, that indifference was setting in again. Her problems were so petty that sometimes I wanted to scream "CARE ABOUT SOMETHING THAT MATTERS!" except that would be hypocritical, because I was just a gamer. She kept talking, not noticing that I was officially no longer listening. I looked at Mello just in time to catch him glaring at where Linda was touching me. The fork he was holding seemed to be suffering. I wondered if he was strong enough to bend it with one hand like that.

And this, when she wasn't even talking to _him_? I had to get her away from him before something violent happened.

"Hey, Linda," I interrupted her stream of consciousness, "Go away."

Bluntness was usually an effective mechanism. I employed it only rarely, which made it even more effective when I did. Needless to say, Linda was shocked. And mad. She stood up, huffed, and marched away.

That was easier than I expected it to be, and now I could look at Mello without being interrupted. He was much more relaxed, now, and when I met his eye, he almost smiled. "She takes some getting used to," I apologized.

He made some kind of face, loosening his death grip on his fork and diving into his cake. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw that the meal was entirely chocolate except for the apple. Apparently it went beyond a comfort-food and straight into an obsession. What a pair we were, huh? The slacker gamer and the devoted student, the smoker and the guy who loved chocolate more than life itself. It was a soap opera waiting to happen. We'd be the couple that fought all the time but who were so crazy in love with each other than everyone knew we'd never break up. Matt and Melissa. It even already sounded like a TV-show name. 'M' squared.

I was seriously glad that I hadn't said that out loud.

Shut the hell up, I'm a gamer not a writer.

We ate in silence for a while. He saved the apple for last, for some reason, and as I was already done with my food I had nowhere else to look but at him as he bit into it.

His lips and teeth all over it gave me a very strange feeling I'd never experienced before, and I couldn't think of anything else but the way he bit into it, chewed it, swallowed, licked his lips, bit into it again with that crunch that only an apple can make. I was certain I'd never seen anyone eat an apple like that before, but I also couldn't figure out how he was doing it any differently.

I tried to think about Zelda, but I kept thinking about Link eating an apple like that.

Then I realized that Mello looked a little like Link, or that he would if I could get him to wear the cap Link wears.

The thought did something strange to me, and I couldn't look at Mello for the rest of breakfast.

When we finished eating, after we had thrown away the contents of our trays, I forced myself to look at him and smiled. Looking at him, I didn't feel quite so creepy about imagining him dressed as Link because it wasn't as probable when he was standing there, dressed normally. In an attempt to make normal conversation, I said, "What do you want to do today?"

He stared at me. Of course he wouldn't know what people can do on weekends at Wammy's.

"Do you..." It was a stretch to ask him this, but I felt like I had to try. After all, maybe he would take to it, and it would be the start of a beautiful friendship of epic proportions? That was possible, right? What could be better than having a roommate who loved the same things you love? "...want to play some video games? Together?" I was blushing furiously and my fair skin and red hair hid nothing so it was there for the world to see. "With me, I mean?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Mello**  
Even if the reason I hated Linda wasn't the way she babbled about stupid things, her high pitched voice got on my nerves, adding to the bad vibe that was cursing through my body.  
I breathed in and out, trying to stay calm, but I was doing a poor job, and then she touched him. She _dared_ to touch Matt. My mind was already processing the wonderful thought of planting my fork in the back of the hand she had on Matt's arm, but Matt was quicker, and he suddenly spat to her: "Hey Linda, go away."

The bitch stood up and left, indignation painted on her face.  
I felt a wave of relief wash the evil ideas my mind had been inventing, as so many ways to make her suffer, and I looked up at Matt. I don't know why, but I was sure he had felt my anger. I was almost sure it wasn't an illusion, the coincidence was too big. I smiled at him as a kind of 'thank you', then realised I had smiled at him.  
I didn't want him to think I was letting my tough attitude go, so I got back to my blank face and ate the food on my tray. I didn't know exactly what he wanted from me, so I had to be careful.

While I ate my apple, my eyes caught sight of something, at another table. Registering the information, I began to think deeply, trying to elaborate a plan. There was something I'd had to do later.

Once we finished eating, and as we were walking back to our shared room, he suddenly asked me if I wanted to play video games with him. I was kinda taken aback.  
First, doing something with him was appealing. This way, he wouldn't do something out of my sight. And he hadn't asked Linda, but _me_. Take that, bitch.  
Second, he was becoming bold in my presence, daring to ask me something, when I thought he was kind of shy and laid back, and I wondered if he thought he could act differently than the others with me, that he didn't need to fear me, and that he could lead me to do what _he _wanted. But, thinking about it, I didn't mind as much as I thought I would, Matt had this way to look at me while waiting for my answer that held more hope than command, and for an unknown reason, the mighty me agreed to fulfil his hope. Yeah, that was kinda bad, but I felt like giving him a privilege if I accepted.  
And third, I had never played video games and was curious about it, eager to know what Matt found so attractive in those imaginary worlds.  
I stared at him a bit too long before giving my answer since it gave time to Linda to come back in charge.

"Maaaaatt! Why were you so mean with me? Is it because you're friend with Travis?" she annoyingly complained, encircling Matt's arm with hers once again.  
"I'm not friend with Trav..." Matt began. And then everything was so quick that I think that the bitch didn't even realise she escaped a horrible and painful death, as I stepped forward, ready to punch her, and that Matt freed his arm from Linda's grip and pulled my right shoulder, turning me face to him, as he caught my left wrist that was starting to raise.  
"C'mon Mello, let's go." he simply said like if nothing happened, and to tell the truth, no one but us two noticed anything, Linda still babbling in our backs as we climbed the stairs, Matt still holding my wrist and totally ignoring her as she spat: "Hey Matt! You're a prick, I'll never talk to you again!!

I followed Matt upstairs, my anger completely gone by the time we closed the door of our shared room behind us.  
Matt let my arm go and looked at me, and all of a sudden burst into laughter.  
"If only it was true! But I bet she won't be able to keep her mouth shut next time she sees me!"  
I couldn't help but laugh along, Matt was, as I discovered it, contagious when it came to laughing.

Matt sat on the floor and lit the TV and his console. Lifting his head, he smiled at me and patted the floor beside him.  
I plopped myself on the carpet, and he gave me the biggest grin I had ever seen. He was beaming, as he held me a controller.  
He had chosen a fighting game. I don't know if there was a message in that choice, but I smiled inwardly. Not for long, as I began to lose. I should have expected it, since I've never played any video game in my whole life and he probably knew this game as well as the others I had seen him play.

A huff escaped me after I lost for the umpteenth time, and Matt turned to me, his gaze questioning.  
"Do you want to stop?" he asked. I could feel the disappointment in his tone, and to my surprise, the annoyance that was starting to grow in me since we had been playing for almost two hours and I kept on losing disappeared. I didn't have the heart to say yes, so I shook my head, and we played two hours more.  
I was beginning to feel bored, since I was discovering I didn't like video games that much, apart from the fact that I wasn't good at them, and fortunately, Matt's growling stomach saved me.

This time, I didn't feel like going to the cafeteria. Matt went alone, his face drooping when he realised I didn't follow. I felt bad, but it was too much asking for me to go there again. I disliked social contacts, I disliked other students, and I wasn't really hungry, moreover.

While Matt was having dinner, I roamed in the corridors in search for someone in particular. Because that someone had caught my attention in the cafeteria, and, more than that, had something I wanted.  
It was not long until I located the guy entering the toilets. I leant, my back to the wall just beside the restroom's door, and waited.  
When I saw the door open, I slid and stood in the way, my stance dangerous. The guy's eyes went wide.

"Wh... what do you want?" he stuttered, obviously scared by me.  
I didn't even reply, and just stirred the item I wanted, that was poking out of his jeans' pocket. Without a word, I turned around and left. He caught up with me, and as he grabbed my shoulder, trying to stop me, I spun around and used a trick I often saw my father do. I stared at his hand on my shoulder, then at him, and scowled.  
His mouth made a fishlike motion as his hand fell to his side, but no word got out of it. I made a step forward, still imitating my father. If the guy had been impressed, now he was lucky he was just exiting the toilets, otherwise I think he would have wet himself. He stepped back, and retreated like a beaten dog. I didn't even have to touch him. Intoxicating...

Slowly, satisfied beyond words, I headed back to Matt's and my bedroom. Matt was already back, and food was waiting for me on my nightstand.  
I smirked. I was sure he would do that. And it was a large piece of chocolate brownie.  
As I sat on my bed to eat, I threw the item I had just stolen on his bed.

He approached, curious. His face suddenly lit up, and I watched, fascinated, how it went from utter delight to extreme horror.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N: **Hey! It's Dlvvanzor. I just want to say, before we start this chapter, that I do understand the medical impossibility of what you'll see Mello writing. Thank you all for reading! :D  


* * *

_**Matt**  
I looked at the game consol in my hands. It was my Game Boy! Mello, somehow, must have repaired it when I wasn't watching! Maybe when I was asleep? Was he really that good with machines? If so, then why did he suck so bad at the game we had played? I mean, he couldn't be expected to beat _me_, of course, but he had spent half the time walking _the wrong way_ on the screen, or punching the air that had nothing in it while I beat him up on the other side. Classic case of forgetting which character you were playing.

But wait. The Game Boy didn't have this one little scratch on the side that _my_ Game Boy had acquired when I threw it at a wall in frustration, once. And the 'A' key stuck. The sticking 'A' key could be explained by damage from being crushed by my butt, but the _lack_ of a scratch?

This... this was Tony's Game Boy. It was the same color and model as mine, yes, but...

And I knew with a sudden certainty that Mello had stolen it. Was it still stealing if the person gave it to you willingly, out of fear of death or dismemberment? If they actually handed it to you, was it legal?

I looked up at my roommate and watched him for a moment. He was eating the brownie I'd brought him, staring at me. I could tell he was trying to read my features, so I made them go blank. By the way he stared at me, wordless as usual, I knew that he knew what I was accusing him of, and that he wasn't going to deny it. I sighed.

Well, Tony would be too afraid to tell on Mello, and Mello certainly wasn't talking, and Mello would just get in trouble if I tried to return it. Also, no one would think it was strange to see me walking around with this Game Boy... it looked so similar that no one would notice that it wasn't originally mine. And Tony barely used it...

So I'd have to keep it.

I demonstrated this by shrugging, smirking, and plopping back on my bed to play.

He smirked back and sat at the desk I had found him at earlier.

We sat together, sharing a room, in silence. He was very focused. I, however, kept sneaking glances at him, admiring the way he rested his left elbow on his desk and his tilted head on his hand, completely into whatever he was writing, his hand a fist of concentration in his hair. The hair that he wasn't holding hostage was falling to his side, exposing a surprisingly slender, pale neck. He was stooped over his paper, writing very quickly with the intensity I'd already come to expect from him. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his face. This was probably better, though, because this way I'd have a warning if he was about to turn around and catch me staring at him.

He never did. He never even looked _up_ from his steadily growing pile of loose-leaf paper.

Finally, at two in the morning, he stood up and stretched mightily, the vertebra in his back popping from sitting in that position for so long. Not that I was one to talk, of course. Clearly exhausted, he didn't even make a run to the bathroom before walking straight to his bed, letting himself fall face-first into the pillow.

I was a little alarmed at first, because he shouldn't have been able to breathe with his mouth and nose smothered in the pillow, but after about forty-five seconds, he turned his head and sighed. His eyes were open, and he looked at me.

I smiled at him; he smiled back, sighed again, and rolled over, instantly asleep.

I turned off my game and took a minute to brush my teeth. Oral hygiene is very important. On my way back to my bed, I saw his story sitting out. He hadn't tucked it away. That was like asking me to read it, right?

I glanced at Mello. He was definitely asleep.

Even as I picked it up, I was aware that what I was doing was bad. Just because he left it out did not mean that he wanted people to read it. What if it was like a diary or something private? A letter?

If it was a diary I'd put it down as soon as I figured it out. And it couldn't be a letter- it was too long, and who would he have to write to, anyway? He was _here_.

So I read it. It was in German, which immediately made me feel even guiltier. If he _meant_ for me to read it, he would have written it in English. I knew he could read, write, and understand English- I'd seen him taking notes, and they had been in perfect English, taken from a teacher who talked extremely quickly. So he was fluent, which meant that he wrote it in German a) so that no one would understand it or, b) because he liked German better. Maybe it was a combination of both.

Unfortunately, I knew German from all the worldwide gaming I'd done in my time, and because I'd taken a German class. I had slept through most of the class, of course, but I still knew enough that I could read it and understand it when it was spoken to me, even if I could speak it only brokenly.

So...

Hating myself but unable to resist, I took a deep breath and looked at the first page.

- - -

Three hours later, I was still reading. It was slow going because I had to translate, but...

_"Don't make me leave you," she gasped out, grabbing him by the wrist, her long nails digging into his skin. He looked at those nails with a deep, resonating sorrow, ignoring the small bites they were leaving behind. They had been so pretty, once, and she had cherished them, painting them by the window of their loft on sunny days, delighting in the cherry reds and midnight blues and blushing pinks. Now, they were in ruin- scraped and broken and torn and split from clawing at the cement floor, their bright colors no longer visible through the dirt and blood encrusted upon them._

_No, she would never be able to escape. Even if, by some miracle, she could get her captor's permission to leave, there was still the chain... gruesomely and impossibly wrapped on the other end around her very heart..._

_"Alyssa..." he whispered, taking hold of either side of her delicate, bruised cheeks. "If you pull too hard, your heart will be ripped out of your chest. You know he removed your ribs, just for that purpose- so that if you tried to pull away, to be with me, you would leave your heart behind. Here, with him, where he wants it forever. Alyssa, if you could just learn to love him, he would set you free... let you live in the castle with him..."_

_"No," she snarled. "I could never love him. You are the one I want. You are the one I'll always love. I will be with you... or die."_

_"Alyssa, no!"_

_But it was too late, he knew. She had made up her mind, and no one but God Himself would ever be able to change it. She pulled against her bonds with all the strength that remained in her wretched body, and, with a sound unlike any that has been heard before, broke free._

_She smiled as she fell into him, and for a moment, when he caught her, he smiled too, thinking that by some miracle the loop of the chain must have slipped..._

_But a sob wracked through his thin frame when he saw, left behind-_

Shit, it was already six AM! I had to put the story back where I found it, just in case he woke up early. I carefully rearranged it to how it had looked before I'd invaded his privacy, then got into bed.

I couldn't sleep. Mello's words were still running through my head. A woman having her heart ripped out of her body... no, a woman _willingly_ ripping her own heart out of her body, rather than consenting to be with someone other than the one she loved.

The images, the pictures he had painted. His frantic handwriting, like he couldn't have stopped writing it if he'd _tried_...

I didn't manage to fall asleep that night, and when Mello opened his eyes three hours later, he woke up to me staring at our ceiling, wide-awake.


	15. Chapter 15

**Mello**  
I woke up with a strange feeling, like being awoken by something silent, but unusual, a change of atmosphere that you can _feel_. I opened my eyes, and suddenly jerked back a thousand miles when I saw Matt's happy face leant over me.  
"Happy birthday Mello!" he sang, grinning widely as he handed me a chocolate cupcake on which he had planted a candle, and lit it up.  
Oh yeah right, I was 15 today... I had lost count of the days, somewhere in the frenzy that were the days before Christmas holidays: exams, last rankings of the year, preparation for the january tests, Christmas preparation too, and the present I was trying to make ready on time for Matt...  
But I was... happy wasn't the word... but oh well, I was glad he hadn't forgotten. Not that Matt was particularly caught in that frenzy, somehow he had always managed to keep himself out of the rush and panic, always serene and calm, always focused on his own stuff without giving in to any disturbance.

I know. I was relieved.  
Relieved that somewhere between avoiding decorating the common room, and escaping work for exams, somewhere between his games and smoking/sleeping (God, Matt slept a LOT), he had made my birthday important, he had given a place to me.

I smiled and blew the candle. He stirred it out of the cupcake, and laughed when I bit into the icing, putting some on my nose. For an instant, I thought that he was about to wipe it for me, but his hand went back in his lap. Illusions, again.

I didn't thank him aloud, but he knew of our implied agreement, my smile equalled the words.  
After all these years, I still couldn't resolve myself to speak. I did, sometimes in class, when teachers expected an answer from me, or once in a while when I threatened a kid of the orphanage into doing whatever I expected him/her to do, but that was about all.  
Matt himself had barely heard my voice. It wasn't right, I knew it, I knew that sometimes he expected me to talk, but I couldn't. I was still holding on to my illusions, even after five years of... friendship. Was that friendship?

We spent almost all our time together, but we almost did _nothing_ together. We were just side by side, but each of us at his own occupations. Matt at his games, and me studying and writing.  
Did we need to talk? I wasn't sure.  
I was still stuck between illusions that could be shattered easily, and the comfort that this silence was giving me.  
Maybe I was wrong to think everything was ok this way, and that Matt and me had this secret agreement of silence.  
Maybe I was right, and we really had it.  
I wouldn't take the risk to discover the truth, anyway.

I was consciously licking the remaining icing on my fingers when I noticed I had been in deep thinking all the time I had taken to eat the cupcake. And I caught Matt staring at me, mouth hanging open.  
He turned around and left for the bathroom just as he noticed that I noticed, and I wondered why he went bright red all of a sudden.  
Did he want a piece of it? I suddenly felt bad for eating it all...

When I exited the bathroom, taking my turn after him, he wasn't there. I had barely heard Roger's voice while I was under the shower, and knew that Matt had probably been asked in Wammy's office for an umpteenth scold about how lazy and uninterested by the common activities he was, and Wammy would stir a 'ok, will do better' from Matt and dismiss him without much hope of an improvement in his attitude. I even wondered why Wammy or Roger kept on scolding him this way. Matt had an inertia strength that not even a troop of enraged elephants running on him would have shaken.  
I almost laughed at the thought of Matt playing his way through a difficult level of Final Fantasy, totally oblivious of the cloud of dust and loud rumble of a hundred of angry elephants going straight his way.

Since those useless convocations did usually last long, I decided to go to the library to study. I still had someone to beat. More than competition, I was fuelled by the need to know how Near would react to me being first, he never expressed any feelings, he was blank, white and blank. Sometimes I wondered if they had brainwashed him, it was impossible to be that unfeeling.

I had resigned myself to be second, by this time. Not that I would have admitted it out loud, I needed people to believe in that competition, it gave me reasons to beat him physically, and to bully everyone here.  
I know it was kind of twisted, but if I didn't have a reason, be it fake or not, to harass and molest the other students, people would know I was viscerally evil.  
I loved the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, the sight of blood spilling between cut lips, the crush of teeth and the cries of pain. I loved seeing the fear, _smelling_ the fear...  
I was like my father. I prayed, oh Lord did I pray... everyday, each time I was alone in front of that window, I grabbed my rosary and prayed, thinking of my mother, and how ashamed of me she would be. But an instant later, I was hurting someone again, and loving it.  
If I didn't have Near as a fake reason for a fake frustration, I wouldn't be the falsely disturbed kid that was taking his inner torments out on the others.  
Sometimes I was tired of it. Tired of being like this.  
But there was always something in me that would, at a moment or another, push a button and start me up like a devil out of his box. I didn't know how to control it, it was stronger than me, the rage, the adrenaline.  
I even loved it when they fought back. Tasting blood on my own lips when one managed to punch me back increased everything in me, my strength, my will of domination, my sadism.  
The problem was that the next time, they never fought back, they knew better than put me in the final state of my anger. I had even damaged Roger's ugly face once when he had tried to stop me from killing Linda.  
I don't know how many times she had had my fist somewhere in her face, although I tended to punch her guts and kick her tibias lately, it was less visible, and she wouldn't tell on me anyway.

Yeah, if I didn't lie, people would see who I really am.  
Matt would see who I really am...

I had pushed him from second to third rank in the space of a few weeks. He had shrugged and smiled at me when he had seen the weekly ranking at that time, and nothing had changed. We had still sat together at the cafeteria the few times I showed up there, we had still shared our room, gone about our respective business, he had still brought me food and I had still stolen stuff for him.

Strangely, he almost always witnessed my fits of anger, and the only reason I hadn't been thrown out of the orphanage was because somehow having him beside me when I was about to punch someone made me deflate like a balloon.  
And it was better this way, because he wouldn't see who I really am...  
Not that he'd judge me anyway, he had always shrugged off my tantrums like he shrugged the rest off.

I couldn't seem to focus on the book I was trying to read so I finally decided to find Matt. It was saturday, and he would probably be playing his games in our shared room, the scolding should have been over by the time I exited the library. But he wasn't in our room when I checked it.  
He was probably out smoking, so I headed for his usual bush. I was secretly marvelled by the fact he had never been caught, although I was kind of worried by the fact he was smoking since he was ten years old.

I saw him at the end of a corridor just as I turned a corner, heading for the library. He was obviously searching for me, which made my heart rate increase for some reason. Maybe I'd been running without noticing, that was all.  
He was about to disappear from my sight so I called him.

"Matt!"  
He stopped and stayed his back turned to me for about three seconds before turning around and look at me coming his way. His look was indescribable, puzzled, happy, stunned, I didn't really know, maybe everything at the same time. I stopped a few feet away from him, almost glued where I was when he lifted his goggles and that his unreadable stare was suddenly unshielded.

I don't know how long we stayed like this, or how long we would have, because I heard a too familiar voice coming our way.  
Matt was still at the corner where he had been when I had called his name, so Linda could see him, but not me. And since we were both silent, she didn't get any indication that I was here too.  
That's probably why she didn't think twice before speaking her heart out.

"Maaaatt! I was looking for you!!" she squealed, which sounded to me like the dentist's roulette.  
Matt turned to face her, and for an instant, I was pretty sure I saw anger in his eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Matt**  
"Matt!"

The sound of my name was like an invisible hand grabbing me by the spine- I stopped instantly, frozen to my place, and moving was nothing short of an impossibility.

Because I recognized that voice.

Mello only spoke when he was called on in class, or when he had some kid cornered with his fist in his face and his knee in his gut. I loved being there when he got in a fight- just watching that energy would have been a treat, but actually hearing his _voice_? It was beautiful and rare and I adored it. Almost as much as I venerated him. Sometimes the admiration bordered on hero worship, and it was at those times that I couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop following him, couldn't stop looking for him whenever we weren't together. He never complained. After all, who would resent having a puppy-dog sidekick? He must have known that I'd do anything for him- and I do mean anything- but he never asked me to. Either he respected me, or he thought I was useless.

I didn't care either way, so long as he let me follow him around, perfectly aware of exactly how pathetic and creepy that was.

And now he had said my name.

I froze, and a shiver ran up and back down my spine. He had never said my name before. Never in five years had he said my name, or even spoken directly to me. Somehow he made the four letters catch on fire, and me with them.

I whipped around to look at him, tearing off my goggles. He was coming toward me. I wildly wondered how my hair looked, then wondered why the hell I had wondered something like that. I mean, seriously. My hair? This was my best friend (?), why would he give a damn?

"Maaaatt! I was looking for you!!"

Linda. Perfect timing as usual. Sometimes I was sure she was here, not for her art skills, but her gift of interrupting anything that even seemed to have the potential to be a 'moment.'

I reluctantly turned to look at her, pissed off that it meant I couldn't be looking at Mello.

Um, not that I would want to be gazing at Mello or anything. I didn't adore him _that_ way.

The girl who was definitely not Mello pranced up to me and hugged me. She left her arms about my neck when she pulled away, and looked into my eyes. I felt something squishy against my chest, and realized with disgust that she was pushing her boobs all up on me. Her top barely counted as a top. She didn't usually dress that way- as an artist, she usually wore things that made her look wispy and artistic, as opposed to things that made her look like a prostitute. Had Roger seen that outfit?

"What do you want?" I sighed, trying with little to no success to escape Boob Contact. She was surprisingly strong. Probably from getting in so many fights with Mello, one-sided as they were.

"Matt," she cooed, then her face looked more serious. She let go of my neck, cleared her throat, and folded her hands behind her back. She bit her lip, cutely (if you ignored the whore outfit) curling some of her hair behind her ear. Mello did that sometimes. "Matt... I really like you. Like, a lot. And I was hoping you would... um..." she blushed. "Would you... go with me to the dance Tuesday?"

I stared at her, mouth agape. She wanted me to go with her to the dance? Was she serious? And she _liked_ me? Where did _that_ come from!? Why'd she tell me that!? Had I ever given her any indication that I wanted a girlfriend? I was just a gamer- all I wanted was to play video games in my room while Mello studied or wrote, in the strange silence we both seemed to enjoy so much. Something as stupid as 'a girlfriend' didn't fit into those plans, obviously! Was she _thick_?

And did we even _have_ dances at Wammy's?!

I frowned at her. "I-"

I heard rapid footsteps that I recognized anywhere and sprang immediately into defense mode, not even needing to look at him to know that he was coming, at a run, to introduce his fist to Linda's face for the millionth time. I would never know what it was about that girl that made him go off so badly, but it wasn't important- all I knew was that Mello was coming like a bullet and that if he got into any more fights he could get kicked out of Wammy's House.

I spun on my heel as he tried to run past me to get to her, throwing both arms around his waist and intercepting him. His body was pure muscle, his face was contorted in rage, but the moment my arms came around him he went limp. Just as instantly as I had frozen when he'd said my name.

I found myself letting go of him and taking him by the face, forcing him to look at me. He may have physically relaxed, but his eyes were still furious and... something else, but I didn't know what. "Mel. Mel, calm down, okay?" I said gently, staring into his beautiful blue eyes. I wanted to kiss him. No I didn't, that would be gay.

The 'something' in his eyes changed to a sadness and shame that I was sure only I could read, and he tore out of my hands and ran off in the direction of our room.

I watched him run away and took a step to follow him, forgetting about Linda until she said, "Wow, you totally saved me!"

I gritted my teeth. Must remain calm. She didn't do anything to make him go off, it wasn't her fault.

"So..." she said, rocking on her feet. "Do you wanna meet by the Christmas tree at the dance?"

All at once, I couldn't take it anymore. I'd heard her voice every day since the day I got here, eight years ago, and I couldn't take another word of it. If telling her to 'go away' on a regular basis didn't get the message across, then I'd make her good and sure exactly what I wanted from her- and it did _not_ include a _dance_ date.

I exploded, surprising her as much as I surprised myself. "Dammit, Linda, would you just stay the hell away from us?!? I don't want to date you, I don't want to be your friend, I don't want to even fucking _hear your voice_, so stay the hell away from me and Mello!"

I whipped around to march away.

"Matt...?" she whimpered.

I spun around and slapped her hard across the face. "Get. Out. Of. My. Life!" I hissed at her.

As she burst into tears and ran in the other direction, I wished that I felt bad about what I had just done. She had other friends, of course (friends who actually enjoyed her company), but it was still an unbelievably cruel thing to say to a person.

But did I care? No I did not. All I felt was relief, and another emotion I didn't recognize.

Anger.

I had literally never been so angry in my entire life. Even if she had done nothing, her very existence pissed Mello off. As much as I liked his violence, I didn't want him getting hurt or in trouble, and she was the quickest path to both of those things. She kept coming around us to be with _me_, so I'd eliminate that desire in her. Simple. And if she tried it again, I'd slap her harder and scream at her louder. If she did it again _after_ that I'd find some way to make it crystal-clear, but the way things had been until before today was unacceptable. Thus, I would change them, no matter what it took.

I had never felt this before, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I wanted to break something or hurt someone, and I didn't care who as long as it wasn't Mello. I wasn't used to feeling _anything_ strong, let alone _rage_, and I had no idea what to do. What did Mello do when he got mad, other than beating someone until they couldn't move?

I panicked a little when I couldn't think of anything, but then I realized...

It was simple.

He came to _me_.

So I would go to him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Mello**  
I think this time I would have killed her. I'm serious, dead serious.  
If Matt hadn't stopped... _touched_ me. I couldn't help but still feel the tingling of my skin where he had gripped my waist, where his palms had cupped my face, while I was running to our shared room.  
I don't know what happened, the way he sucked my energy, leaving me empty... no, actually, he filled me. He sucked my rage, my anger, and replaced it with something. What? If I only knew...  
I was feeling so warm inside, and so cold without his touch...

And the way he looked at me, straight in the eyes. I have never seen his unshielded eyes from so close, I almost thought he'd hug me at some moment or something. But he didn't, and I couldn't stand looking in his eyes for longer. I saw a new expression in his eyes, something I couldn't define, something that made me realise who I was, raw in front of him. Shame and sadness overwhelmed me, because right at that moment, I was sure he was hating me. That was probably what his stare expressed. What else could it be? He had _protected_ Linda...

I slammed the door behind me, and suddenly felt the urge to feel something else than shame and guilt. It was too strong, too much for me. I was disgusted by myself, horrified that Matt had looked at me this way, hurt in the deepest of me, because I had just shattered all the illusions I had cradled in five years.  
I punched the wall, the hard concrete winning the confrontation against my knuckles, leaving my hand throbbing as I fell in a sat position on the edge of my bed. Physical pain was better than the wringing in my chest, better than the nausea rising in my stomach. I laid there, elbows on my thighs, my bleeding hand staining the carpet drop by drop.  
I felt tears roll on my cheeks just as the click of the door knob turning to open resounded. Good timing, now Matt was about to see me cry...  
I hunched myself even more, trying to hide myself, like if curling up would make me disappear.

I heard the water in the bathroom sink, and a few seconds later, Matt was crouched in front of me, delicately pulling on my hand to have a better view on it, and then he wiped the blood away. He was gentle, dabbing carefully before applying some disinfectant, and then he put some band aid around my hand.  
It hurt like hell, but I was way beyond the physical pain.  
My eyes were focused on his hands taking care of me, and I could feel the powerful thuds of my heart in my throat, unable to calm them down.

Then he sat beside me on my bed. I don't know how long we stayed like this, in silence.  
"Matt..." I simply whispered, wanting to tell him so many things, to apologise, to plead him not to be mad at me, to explain why I had done that... but that was stupid. He would never understand, and that was creepy. I didn't want Linda to be around, I didn't want her to look at him, let alone touch him, and date him? No way. No fucking way. I'd rip her throat open before that happened.  
And suddenly, the horror of the situation gained me. What if Matt wanted to date her?  
I didn't have the right to do that to him, if it made him happy to be with her, then, I had to accept it.  
I raised my head to look at him, he was still silent, and as much as I dreaded his reaction, I had to tell him I wouldn't attack Linda anymore.

But when my eyes met his, he was just smiling.  
"Finished sulking?" he said, with this tone that contained all at once affection, amusement and teasing. He rarely used it, only when he didn't want to embarrass me, actually. And right now, as I was crying like a baby in front of him, I think I had reached the point of no return concerning embarrassment. And I know he knew it.  
I barely smiled back, unable to cry anymore in front of his attempt to lighten the mood, to lessen the tension and avoid talking about me acting like a pussy.  
Then he lightly pushed my shoulder, laughing. But for one instant, his hand stayed on my shoulder, resting there with no apparent reason. Then he squeezed it, his thumb making a caress motion on my shirt, before he let his hand fall back in his lap and talked.  
And as if it wasn't enough to create this weird sensation in my guts...

"Mello, since I kinda ruined all my chances with Linda when I told her to fuck off, would you go to the Christmas ball with me?" He stopped for a few seconds, and as I looked at him, eyes wide, his face reddened and he added: "I mean, we could eat like pigs, I'm sure there'll be tons of chocolate stuff, and make fun of the girls' dresses, what do you think of that?"  
What did I think of that? That it was all at once scary and unbelievable, strange and appealing?  
I could only nod in approval.

A knock resounded at the door. Matt and me looked at each other, wondering who it could be. But we didn't have to wait long to know, since the door opened on Near. Like the first time he had dared to come here, he just knocked and entered, without waiting for a reply.

"Matt." he simply said, in that monotonous tone that made me wonder if he was human.  
"Huh?" Matt grunted, unused to have the albino brat address to him.  
"You hurt Linda deeply, she came in the common room and told me what you said."  
"So what?" Matt used the same blank tone as Near, notifying him he didn't care the least about what Linda felt like.  
"Mello has a bad influence on you, obviously. You would never have talked like this before." Near didn't even seem to be accusing Matt, his voice was neutral and levelled.  
"Near, first, you don't have permission to enter here like this, and second, you can fuck off just as much as Linda can, I meant it when I told her to stay away from Mello and me, I meant it when I slapped her, and I'll gladly do it again, to her or you, equally. So take your scrawny ass out of here and never come back again."

Near left, closing the door almost silently behind him, without adding anything, without even looking annoyed by Matt's words.  
Unlike me. I was shocked. Matt had _slapped _Linda. That, I didn't expect. So he didn't protect her, after all?  
My eyes made a come and go from the door to Matt. I felt suddenly closer to him. But not close enough. Illusions seemed to be building again, and this time I needed to protect them better, because I had almost broken down an instant ago.

I wondered why Near bothered to come scold Matt since he didn't even seem to care, emotionless as he seemed to be.  
Even Matt wasn't that inexpressive. Actually, the more I had observed Matt, the more I had noticed he was in fact _really_ expressive. But reading him was like trying to find the differences in those games where you have two images that look identical but present a few inequalities.  
You have to look hard and long, and know where to look. It's in his stance barely straightening, the corner of his eyes imperceptibly rising up, his hands and the moves they make.

When he's playing, I can tell by the way he attacks the buttons of his controller what's exactly happening in the game.  
He's relaxed, and I know he's smoothly progressing, then his eyes narrow, and I know a boss is coming. He grins, his nose wrinkling a bit in defiance when he beats it, and he straightens a bit before hunching again in front of the TV, when it was a particularly difficult one he's proud of having beaten.  
And when the game is extremely challenging, of when he's online playing against the best players in the world, he almost stops breathing from time to time, biting his lower lip, focused, utterly concentrated. And I find it extremely attractive... scratch that. I find it extremely interesting to see how he never gives up, thinking as fast as lightning to find the best strategy, the weaknesses of his adversary, his body tensing more and more as the end of the level approaches, and he always wins. And he just switches to something else, forgetting his victory just like that. He puts everything in it, and then he sets it aside. Because as much as he loves what he does, he is rational, ungreedy, modest. Once he won, he's satisfied, it's for himself only and he would never scream it out at the top of his lungs. He's happy to prove it to himself, and he doesn't need more.

I wish I was like that...


	18. Chapter 18

**Matt**  
My mind sputtered to a stop, and I barely noticed what I was saying to Near, although I knew that I meant it.

Because Mello had said yes.

Sure, he had technically agreed to pigging out and making fun of dresses on a fancy day off from classes. Sure, he had only nodded. Sure, it wasn't a date (not that I wanted a date, of course). But still. It was a good four hours that I would get to spend with the incredibly cool, incredibly interesting Mello.

I got an image of him in a red and green dress but forced it out before it could burn itself into my retinas. Not that it was a bad image, but it was still kind of an awkward thought to have about your distinctly male best friend.

Because we definitely were friends, right? I mean, you didn't agree to go to dances with random people you don't really like. For example, I would never go with Linda. Maybe she would ask Near! Wouldn't that be funny?

Somehow that reminded me of something that had wiggling in my brain since the whole incident half an hour ago. Why had Mello gone off on Linda for asking me out?

There was only one explanation... but that was completely absurd. There was absolutely no way that Mello was gay, and even if he was, he wouldn't be into _me_. I was his fucking _roommate_! How creepy would _that_ be? That was like incest somehow, wasn't it?

I tried to feel relieved that I didn't have to deal with a gay roommate. I wouldn't stop being his friend if he was, of course, but it would have been so awkward initially. Every time he or I came out of the shower, it would be uncomfortable. It would be a long time before we got used to it, and before we could have guy-moments again, like pushing each other around. And if he ever got a boyfriend, he'd probably do stuff with him in our room, and I'd have to figure out somewhere else to go to play games, not to mention the fact that he wouldn't have time to hang out with me, writing while I played video games. But that time probably meant nothing to him anyway, just downtime that he happened to spend in the same room as me. It was special to _me_ because it was the only time he was ever _still_, but that feeling had to be one-sided.

So it was a good thing, then. It was always better to have a roommate that didn't like you _that_ way, and didn't even have the _potential_ of liking you that way.

For reasons I didn't understand, though, the thought just made me incredibly sad.

- - -

Why did I willingly agree to go through with this?

It was official. I was officially out of my element. There were no electronics anywhere, except for the sound system in the corner, blasting out rock and pop music with the occasional salsa, techno, classical, and heavy metal as offerings to the students of differing tastes. I didn't know any of the music, because none of it was a videogame theme song. Give me Starfox background music, or give me death.

Also, I was sitting alone. Mello had agreed to meet me here, but I was completely and utterly alone at the little table at which I sat, picking at the burgundy-red tablecloth, trying to get the smell of pine needles (Christmas ball) out of my nose with little to no success. There was garland everywhere, and despite my discomfort I had to wonder how the hell Roger planned to get this whole place cleaned up, and how he got it hung up in the first place. _I _certainly wouldn't be helping. He had pretty deep pockets, though, so it probably hadn't been too hard.

There was a huge buffet table against the wall, teeming with Christmas-y foods like cranberry sauce and turkey, etcetera. It had already withstood its first wave of attackers, and, while Roger would never let it run out, I wanted to go over there while it was still warm. I hadn't eaten yet, thinking it impolite to eat before my 'date' arrived.

Not only was I out of my element, not only was I sitting alone, not only was my stomach digesting itself, but I was also, on top of all of that, about ready to just strip my clothes off and sit there naked.

They were unbearably annoying. When I put on clothes, my requirements were two: it had to be striped, and it had to be comfortable. I was willing to compromise on the stripes if it was for comfort. And so, needless to say, I was extremely pissed-off that Linda had forced me into a tight, black, short-sleeved shirt. It was neither striped _nor_ comfortable, which only made me even _less_ wiling to put up with the tight, dark blue jeans.

Plus, you know, I had thought I'd managed to get rid of Linda. Apparently I had failed. But she stayed FAR away from me whenever Mello was around (or would even possibly _come_ around), so I was willing to compromise with that. As long as she wasn't upsetting Mello, I didn't care what she was doing, even if what she was doing was annoying the crap outta me.

Linda was currently dancing with some pretty-boy guy I didn't know very well, two years older than her. Clearly she had been able to move on from me, which was good because I was _so_ not interested that I didn't even have adequate words to describe it. She had been acting strange whenever she talked to me, though. And then forcing me into everything I was wearing at the moment, asking me strange questions like what Mello's favorite color was? She had even tried to force me out of my goggles, but I had put my foot down- the damn goggles weren't coming off, period. She liked my Converse, though, much to my relief. At least my feet were content.

I scowled and flicked at a piece of holly that had fallen from an arrangement hanging over the table and onto my empty plate (damn plate... so empty... was hungry... urgh...), trying to ignore the random Jonas Brothers song that had come on, probably at the request of Linda, when-

When Mello strode into the Christmasified cafeteria. My heart picked up a little bit as I recognized him, and then every inch of my body and mind ground to a complete and utter halt.

Holy.

Fuck.

The music, at least for me, stopped. The people disappeared. The choking aromas ceased to exist. Gravity and physics no longer applied.

Because Mello was walking _that_ way again. Like he owned the world. With this fluidity and power and dominance and pure sexuality that I absolutely could not look away from, even if I had wanted to.

Yeah, he walked like that, but that wasn't different. I was _used_ to _that_.

Yeah. No. What _really_ caught my attention was the fact that he was wearing black-fucking-leather from his head to his foot.

Every part of him that was covered was covered with leather. The top was this tight vest deal that I instantly wanted to rip off. I could see his milk-white shoulders and arms and elbows and forearms and the wire-strong muscles under the skin, his long fingers, his black-painted nails. The vest stopped way before his hips, showing me a stomach and sides that I badly wanted to put my hands on, and his skin-tight pants didn't pick up the slack until as low as they could be without showing pubic hair. As it was, they showed off his junk quite clearly...

And... Zelda preserve me... dear, sweet, holy Axel... his pants (so tight!)... they laced up in front, right over his crotch... there couldn't be underwear... the swing of his hips... the sharp curves of his muscles... his angel's haircut, contrasting so crudely with the leather... his pelvic bones and his clavicle, pushing out far enough that I could see them from where I was... his taut, white stomach and abdominals...

It wasn't hard for me to imagine him naked, sweating, panting, grunting, gasping, clenching his teeth, straddling me on hands and knees, his damp hair sticking to his head and mine as he stooped down to bite my neck, marking me, breathing in my ear, my fingers digging into his back...

I got so hard so fast it was painful. As third smartest at Wammy's, it didn't take me long to figure out that I wanted in his pants, and I wanted in his pants _now_. Forget the 'I'm not gay' thing. If all I had to do to get into Mello's pants was have to operate under the title of 'gay,' then fine, I'd do it. Small price. I'd tattoo it to my forehead. Bottom, top, sitting, standing, I _did not care_, I just wanted him. Now. Immediately. At that very moment, or my dick was going to explode and Roger's epic cleaning crew would have to clean it up.

I had literally never been that turned on in all my life. I was a fifteen-year-old boy, and I had never been hornier than I was at that very moment. It took every ounce of a self-control that I didn't have to stop myself from running over there and throwing him to the floor. If that didn't summarize how good he looked, then nothing could. I could not stop looking at him, staring at his crotch, staring at his arms, staring at his chest, staring at his hips, staring at his eyes, staring at what I could see of his perfect ass...

And he had that smirk on his face, like he knew exactly how good he looked, knew exactly what he was doing, and would have it no other way.

And he was looking straight at me.


	19. Chapter 19

**Mello**  
Matt was already gone when I exited the bathroom after I spent something like an hour inside. I couldn't be mad at him for feeling bored, he couldn't play his games due to Roger hanging so many light garlands all over the cafeteria that we weren't allowed to use devices that consumed electricity, to the risk of making the whole stuff shut off and the Christmas ball happen in the dark.  
And when he had headed for his console just before I entered the bathroom, uncaring for Roger's instructions like always, I was the one to give him the puppy eyes for once. Oh no, he couldn't possibly make the fuses explode. No way. Everyone, and Linda in particular, had to see me in that fucking ballroom.  
Even if she had tried to avoid Matt anytime I was around, I knew she couldn't have helped herself and turned around him again. Since violence and threats weren't obviously working with that damn bitch, and since I had a plan concerning Matt, the lights had to be on.  
I had heard Matt yell through the bathroom door that he would meet me in the dining room at 8pm and the door shut behind him while I was... well... preparing, so I hurried a bit before being finally satisfied with the result.

I looked by the window as I crossed the bedroom, and the moves of the bush where Matt usually hid told me he was out for a smoke. He couldn't have been anywhere else, after all. I glanced at the clock: 7:54pm. I should be leaving now.

Ready to exit the room, I opened the door just as Linda was heading downstairs. But I clearly caught sight of the way she was dressed. God. Slutty, short, vinyl skirt, fishnets, boobs dangerously threatening to pop out of her lace top at any time (this girl is crossed with a cow, I swear, these are not boobs but udders... urgh...)  
I stepped back in the room and closed the door. Planting myself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, I checked myself out. Then I got rid of the shirt under my small leather vest, and adjusted my pants slightly lower on my hips. I stirred my rosary from under my vest and slid it in my nightstand. I couldn't hide it under what I was wearing tonight...  
As I opened the drawer, something caught my attention. Black nail polish. Oh, right, I had bought this to hide the scratch I had made on Roger's car some weeks ago. I hesitated a few seconds then went for it.  
I managed not to tremble while I applied it and once it was dry, I checked at myself again in the mirror. I looked exactly like I wanted to look tonight. Gay.

Yeah. Gay.  
If making it clear, from me, from Matt, to Linda, that I hated her, that he didn't want her around, and that she would still stick to him like she did, then I would use other means to eliminate her and anyone from Matt's neighbourhood.  
No one would dare to approach him within a range of ten feet after tonight.  
I wasn't really gay... well, I had watched porn sometimes (I'm 15, heh... hormones, hello.) and I had liked heterosexual porn as well as gay porn, so I didn't really know where I stood, and didn't care, to tell the truth.  
And as much as my plan idea had bothered me in the beginning, I had set the discomfort of being labelled a fag by all Wammy's students aside real fast. Like if anyone here that valued his life would dare.  
Tonight, I would come out, fakely or not, but I would come out of the closet. And make it clear that Matt was my territory, my hunt field, my... mine. I felt quite guilty to embarrass him, actually, but since he didn't hang out with anyone else than me and no one would dare saying anything about him, I was sure he would just shrug, laugh and go back to his games, my plan sliding on him like water on a duck's feathers, and everything would be ok.  
And even if it wasn't... It was too late, I was too far gone in this, I knew all of this was driving me insane and I needed Matt all for myself, he was all I had here...

But I felt naked, and opened the drawer again to pick my rosary back up and hang it to my neck. I slid it under my leather top, it stung a bit since the garment was really sticking to my skin, but I didn't care. As much as what I looked like made wearing my rosary a blasphemy, I felt like leaving a part of myself behind without it.  
My eyes fell on the folded sheet of paper in my drawer. The present I had prepared for Matt.  
I still didn't know if I would give him. I had written that in one go. I knew I wanted to write a little story for him, for Christmas, because I couldn't think of any other present, it was all I could give him, and what represented me best, after all. Writing had always been my thing. But it had ended up as a poem, and I felt a bit sappy to offer him that. Still, each time I read the words I had written, they made sense. They were all I could tell him without breaking the silence of our relationship, and it was giving him all the leisure to ignore it, if he didn't find this present nice. He could do just as if I never said anything, because technically, I wouldn't have said anything.  
Yeah, fucked up, I know...

Satisfied, I finally left the room for the cafeteria, Matt and I had agreed to meet there in... ah I was ten minutes late!  
And a quick look by the window told me Matt should already be at the ball.

I made my way to the cafeteria, and I could already hear the loud music as I opened the huge door. Quickly glancing around, I located my targets. Linda was in the middle, dancing on the Jonas Brothers (WHO listens to that shit?) with Floyd, a guy that I knew had made a bet with Ike to put her in his bed tonight (and the way she was dressed, she begged for it, believe me.)  
And Matt. Oh. My. God.

Matt was toying with a decoration fallen on the table where he was sat at. He was wearing a tight, very tight black shirt, and I could guess the outlines of his torso and abdominals and... shit. That wasn't the moment to get a hard on, because no matter what I would do, it would stick out of my pants, considering I didn't have underwear and they were already having a hard time covering my junk in normal state.  
His pants didn't make it easier for me, they were dark, close fitting, and it accentuated his long, long legs, that I suddenly imagined wrapped around me while I... NO! No no no no no!!!  
Linda, think Linda, think cow breast. Urgh... that was close.

I breathed in and out and began heading toward him. That's when he finally looked my way. I faltered half a second. What if he didn't like the way I had dressed? Did my hair look good? Was I gay?

Hell yeah, I was. For Matt. Five years and umpteen punches in Linda's face to figure it out.  
I freaked out. Matt wasn't gay. Matt would shut me off when he'd know my feelings for him...  
I didn't have time to process that for long, as I felt everyone's stare on me. With my very good peripheral view, I saw Linda give me the once over and smile. Smile? It didn't even look like she was mocking me of something, it was _genuine_?  
But as funny as all those mouths hanging open were, I only had one target now.

A target that was looking at me with eyes so wide that I could see them even behind his goggles.  
I couldn't help but accentuate the sway of my hips a bit as I catwalked to him, smirking confidently. I was all but confident at that moment, but I knew how to act.

I could see his cheeks blush madly, and I wondered if it was out of shame. Because in a few seconds, I would be sitting next to him, and he couldn't escape my presence and all the little 'fag' flags dancing around me.  
He lifted his goggles in his hair, and I couldn't help but think of a few days ago, when I had called his name for the first time. The only time I did it, actually. He had done the same, lifting his goggles and looking at me with disbelief, and that look. That look...

As I finally reached him, I thought I would just grab him and kiss him. So I averted my eyes from his, looking down, greeting him with a simple 'hey'.  
And my mind screeched. Down, there was his crotch. And an obvious hard on. My eyes trailed back to his again, and he was the one to avert his gaze this time, blushing even deeper.  
I turned my head to look at Linda, then him again. Shit.

I sat beside him, sadness overwhelming me. So all he had said lately was just to prevent me from hurting Linda? I should have known, when he had said nothing to her when she started hanging around him again...  
We stayed silent for a few moment, then he dragged me to the food trays, but I couldn't eat. I was down. Broken hearted.

He ate, commenting on the girls' dresses, while I picked at my food, not really motivated to eat the cold turkey.  
I suddenly felt anger. A rage that I had never felt before, not even when Linda had asked Matt out. My life was making a yo-yo move, up and down, dragging me around hope, just to shatter it in pieces a moment later. And it had been like this for five years, five fucking years. And I couldn't take it anymore.  
I wouldn't take it anymore.

I stood up.  
"You don't eat?" Matt asked me, lifting his head from his almost empty plate.  
I shook my head, and headed for the dance floor. I didn't exactly know what I wanted, everything was swirling in my mind, but the numbing pain in my guts had decided I would act stupid. If I couldn't get Matt, then I would get laid tonight, no matter what. Anything would be better than feeling as shitty as I was feeling right now. Maybe relieving the sexual tension would help, I didn't know, but I would try.

So I began to move to the music, that I recognized to be that Finnish rock band's song, Negative. I knew that May was more than certainly the one asking for this song, she was mad about the singer and had filled our ears with their albums and her hysterical fangirl screams in the common room more than once.  
"The moment of our love"... how ironical.

And it wasn't long before Jaiden, a brown haired thin and muscular guy, began to dance in front of to me, slightly moving closer with every move he made. He was cute, I had to admit it. Could have been worse...  
But he wasn't Matt... I quickly got rid of the hurting thought and shot a languorous look at Jaiden.


	20. Chapter 20

**Matt**  
Um, no. _Hell_ no. Just plain, straight-out, no-fucking-way, no. No way in the fiery recesses of the special Hell. "Flamin' Jaiden" could just keep his faggoty hands off of Mello, and if he got another inch closer to him...

But the way Mello was dancing... moving his hips, running his fingers through his hair before flipping it... it was only a matter of time until Jaiden _did _put his hands on him.

And then he did. The bastard slipped his arms around Mello's waist, and Mello fucking _laughed_.

My fist was in Jaiden's face before I even knew I had crossed the room.

The feeling of a crunch against my knuckles was weird. I'd never punched anyone before. Until that point, the most violent thing I'd ever done was slap Linda, and she had actually done something to deserve it. _This_ guy had just been hitting on an apparently single sex god. I would have done the same thing, if the sex god in question hadn't been my best friend.

Jaiden's expression was one of pure shock and pain. I was afraid to look at Mello's. While it was now apparent that he played for the same team I did (if you will), I had just punched out a potential boyfriend which he probably wouldn't be too pleased about. I did not, however, give a shit.

As I withdrew my fist, I could see that his nose was badly broken. Damn, something can really be said for adrenalin, huh? It would definitely never recover, and someday he'd have to explain to a date how, when he was fifteen, he had gotten his nose broken by a jealous geek.

Because that's what I was. Jealous. So jealous that I could barely _see_ straight. I wanted to hit him again, but there was no reason to, and I couldn't hold the 'rage' emotion for long enough to do it. It quickly froze, but I discovered that cold anger could be just as effective when Jaiden suddenly looked more afraid than he had when I had hit him.

"Dude, Matt!" he said nasally, "What's your fucking problem?!"

I gestured at Mello with a tilt of my head, my eyes never leaving Jaiden's.

"Mine," I said clearly. Dead serious. Calm. Cold.

He held out both hands, palms out. "Whatever you say. Coulda just _told_ me that, asshole."

"Well now you know."

Anxious to get away from the geek-gone-ninja, he spun around and walked in the exactly opposite direction from where Mello and I stood. I stared after him, feeling a strange power that I had never felt before, and not particularly liking it.

At some point, I was going to have to look at my roommate, who I had just blatantly claimed without any kind of permission from him. Mello didn't seem like the type who would want to be 'claimed' without having a say in it. I slid my eyes over to him, reluctantly, expecting anger.

What I saw, though, I didn't know how to deal with. So, in a lovely imitation of the dude I had just punched in the face, I went bright red, opened my mouth, closed it, and then turned and walked silently away.

I walked until I made it to our room. There was no one else in the hallway- anyone who wasn't at the dance was studying in their room, although most people were at the dance. I calmly entered, closed and locked the door behind me. I flopped face-first onto Mello's bed and closed my eyes, tearing off my goggles and tossing them onto my bed, on the other side of the room.

I had definitely screwed up. Getting in trouble with Roger, I could deal with. They wouldn't kick me out of Wammy's for one punch, especially when they discovered my reasons. (I realized with a jolt that I was the only one in this entire place who hadn't known that I was completely, insanely, breathlessly in love with Mello. That's pretty sad.) No, I wasn't afraid of Roger, because there was nothing Roger could do to me.

Mello, though?

What if this broke it? Our friendship, I mean. What if this burst our strangely codependent but separate bubbles? What if this broke our mostly-silence and he just started screaming at me? What if he never wanted to be around me again, not even to write quietly in the room while I played games on mute or with headphones so as not to disturb him? What if, with one word, _one fucking word_, 'mine,' I had destroyed everything?

And why the hell had I said it, anyway? Mello wasn't mine. I didn't own him. I wasn't with him. I wasn't even his best friend, because best friends _talk_ to you, don't they? They tell you things and listen when you tell them things, and you laugh together.

We _had_ laughed together, though. One of the few times I had heard him make a sound, it was laughter...

I didn't know a thing about him. I didn't know where he was from besides the general idea of 'Germany.' I didn't know what had happened to his parents. I didn't know his real name, which kids at Wammy's sometimes told each other when they were close.

But I knew _him_. Of that I was certain. I had watched him every day, as much as I could, for five damn years. I knew his every movement, his every gesture, his every small noise of pain (when he hit his shin on his desk, which he did often) or effort (when he decided to rearrange our furniture one day) or frustration (when he had writer's block). I could read his mind, maybe not in words, but in actions and emotions. I could catch every tiny expression he made, because they were his only indicators and I needed to communicate with him _somehow_. I'd been there the one night he had ever had a nightmare and woken up screaming. He had looked at me, almost cried, and then fallen right back asleep. He didn't remember it now. I knew the sound of his breath when he was asleep versus when he was awake. I knew his footsteps and his stride, which changed with how he was feeling, but in such a minuscule way that I doubted that even _he_ knew it.

Stalkerishness aside, I _knew_ this boy.

That didn't, however, imply that I could predict what his reaction to this would be.

I had never seen that expression on Mello's face before. I didn't know what action it would lead to. Maybe I didn't _really_ know him, then. But that aside, I was terrified.

Because if I had broken it, if it really _was_ over...

Well, I didn't know what I would do.

Silent or not, he was a huge part of my everyday life, and an even bigger part of my thoughts. It was all about him. Everything. Bringing him food or hoping for the rare day when he'd come down and eat with me. Walking with him in the hallway. Sitting in class with him- I had never skipped a class that he and I had together, unwilling to miss a moment. Without him? I'd just go back to how I had been before. Blank. Content, functioning, blank. Nothing. Machine. Cold. Unfeeling, uncaring.

Without him, there was no me, anyway.

Still lying on his bed, my face in his pillow, I inhaled deeply. Chocolate. Shampoo. Mello. I listened to the rain striking Wammy's roof, trying to calm myself.

Chocolate. Shampoo. Mello.

He was a good friend. He had never attacked me, which, for him, was a big deal. He would handle this gracefully. We could move past this, even if I doubted that I would ever actually get over him. It would all be okay.

I rolled onto my side when my lungs demanded oxygen, and realized that I could see out his window.

More importantly, I could see _him_, _outside_ the window. Drenched in the rain, face to the sky, an angel's smile on his lips.

I got out of bed.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Note:** Hey! It's xBBx! It's totally my fault that this chapter is late, but it's finally up!_

* * *

**Mello**  
His. I was his. Everything was wrong in that statement, from the fact Matt wasn't someone to blatantly claim something as his, besides his games, to the fact I had made it clear since my arrival at Wammy's that no one would ever had a bit of control on me.  
From the reality that was our silence, preventing each other from coming too close, from breaking into each other's personal bubble, to the deep knowledge that he had done exactly what I had planned to do to him. Just like that. A punch and a word, and I was _his_.

And despite that, things had never seemed so right...  
All was clicking into place in my mind. I've never been alone. From the beginning, God had never let me down, and if I didn't already believe that, the day I arrived here, the rain had stopped because of Matt, I would carve this truth in me right now with a knife in my arm.  
From the beginning, Matt was there for me, only for me. I could even persuade myself that he was _created_ for me.  
I should have known. I should have noticed, everytime we were both in our room, silently going about our own business, never speaking, not even glancing at each other for hours, and it had always felt the same as when I was in my room in my parents' house, with the comforting presence of my mother somewhere in another room.  
I should have understood the way he cared, the way_ I_ cared... the way his touch melted me like my mother's used to, the rare times we had a physical contact, and the fact I had never ever wanted to hurt him.

When I arrived here, I was sure I had made a mistake, and that God was punishing me. Now I realised... the only mistakes I made happened once I was here, I've gone the wrong way all the time, and still, God graced me with that simple word tonight. 'Mine'.

Frozen in place, I was unable to follow Matt. Realising he felt the same just glued my feet to the ground, and as I tried to call him, I felt like I had swallowed my tongue, I was unable to even move my lips, I just watched his back as he left the ballroom. All I registered in my peripheral vision was Linda grinning and applauding.  
She knew. She had known from the moment I almost killed her when she had asked Matt out. Girls have intuition, I had to give her credit for that. And, even if I would never admit it out loud, I had admiration for her. She's been in love with Matt, but she gave up on him once she knew about us. Then she also knew what he felt for me, obviously. Because she wouldn't have done that for me, but for him, yeah, she would have.  
She had known all along. She wasn't as dense as I thought she was, after all...

Once he had disappeared, Linda approached. She simply whispered in my ear: "What are you waiting for, run after him!"  
I looked at her in disbelief, then back at the door, then began to run.  
Heading outside, the only thought I had was to check for him in the bush he usually went to for a smoke. But he wasn't there. I didn't care, I knew we would find each other at a moment or another, we _had_ found each other. I was happy, I was relieved, I was... his. And as the rain poured on me, drenching me, I stirred my rosary out of my vest and pulled it off my neck.

And there, with the chain and cross messed up in my hand, drops of rain gathering in my palm, I felt like being washed away from the pain, the sorrow, the silence...

I closed my hand on the rosary, bringing my fist to my chest, and I prayed...

_Allmächtiger Gott, du bist der Geber aller guten Geschenke._

_Wir danken dir für das Geschenk deines Heiligen Wortes.  
Möge es eine Lampe für unsere Füsse sein und ein Licht auf unserem Weg.  
Wir danken dir für alles, was du uns gegeben hast.  
Lass uns unser Besitztum, unsere Fähigkeiten und unsere Leben dazu nützen, dich zu preisen.  
Nimm uns und brauche uns, um alle deine Menschen zu lieben und ihnen zu dienen, im Namen deines Sohnes, Jesus Christus, unserem Herr._

I've stayed in deep thoughts after my prayer, thinking of my parents, of Matt, of everything that seemed possible now, I finally had something to live for. Someone that wanted me...

**Matt  
**He stood in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, his hand in a loose fist at his chest. He was saying a prayer in German again, as I had heard him say a million times on a million different nights.

He didn't see me right away, and it might have been the first time that I ever saw him with his guard down in the five years he had been in my life. He was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I stood there, only a few feet away from him, and marveled that he had yet to detect me. Normally, 'observant' was a terrible understatement when it came to Mello. He missed nothing. Usually.

But this time, his shoulders were relaxed, his eyes were closed, and he had a perfectly serene expression on his face. It was something I would never have imagined was possible, because I had grown up with the extreme opposite side of him.

I stood there until he finished the prayer, then watched him for a minute more, unwilling to break his perfect... well, his perfect _something_. None of the languages that I knew had a word adequate to describe _him_.

I didn't want to snap him back to reality, but he was soaking wet and I didn't want him to get sick. Finally, I called his name.

He opened his eyes, and there was no hostility or any impression that he was startled. It was like he had _known _that I'd come find him. Well, I had, hadn't I? I had a feeling we'd _always_ find each other.

...That was interesting. I had never really thought beyond 'get Mello,' and even then, it had only been in my fantasies. It was the first time that I had ever considered forever. Always. Maybe he was the only one I'd ever want, the one I'd always come back to. The one I'd always _take_ back.

I approached him slowly with the umbrella, putting it over his head. _I_ was wet now, but it was more important that _he_ stay healthy than me. I could deal with being incapacitated for a few days. Mello would probably burst if he had to sit still for three consecutive days. I wanted to know what it was that he always held when he prayed, the thing that he always hurriedly tucked under his shirt when I walked in on him. I took his fist in my one free hand and- shuddering at the contact of our fingers- unfolded his palm from around it. He didn't resist.

A small, beautiful rosary.


	22. Chapter 22

**Mello**  
"Mello!"  
His voice freed me from my mind wanders, and I turned to face him. He was holding an umbrella and soon he was in front of me, his look worried, protecting me from the rain although I was already soaked to the bones, and getting drenched himself in the process.

Once again, he was taking care of me, not even caring that he would get sick himself. I suddenly had the feeling that there was something in him that would always value my life more than his own. I couldn't agree with that, and I realised how careful I would have to be, how Matt's personality was an addictive one and how I'd have to protect him to hurt himself while trying to take care of me. Everything made sense, from the few times he had grabbed me to prevent me from hurting someone else, namely Linda, not even taking the possibility that I could have taken it up on him, to the many games stopped in the middle of the night, in the middle of a stage, without even saving, just because I was going to bed and so he was going too.  
I knew deep down inside that he'd die for me, but I also knew that I'd die for him.

Carefully, he unfolded my fingers. The way his fingertip stroke my crucifix made me shiver. It felt like I was opening myself completely to him, sharing the deepest part of me, the one I had hidden during all these years.

"It is important for you, isn't it?"

I nodded. But I was still unable to talk. I wasn't holding to my illusions anymore this time. I was struck by his pale fingers resting in my palm, and all I could do to express myself was capture his hand in mine. Mine.

**Matt**  
"It is important for you, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly and took my hand. I felt that sense of delicious possession I had felt years ago when I first met him, and that I had felt ever since. I would follow him to the ends of the earth.

"I heard you pray at night many times, you know. I understand German..." I hoped he wouldn't make the connection about the story he had left sitting out, and the many stories that had followed it that I had almost religiously stolen, read, and replaced secretly. His expression showed nothing more than surprise so I relaxed. "Tell me... you never had nightmares, I never heard you cry... everyone always cries when they arrive here... but you are always _thanking_ God. Why? I heard your parents got killed by the Mafia... you should be sad, but you _thank_ God."

He spoke easily, as if we _hadn't_ never had a conversation in five years. "I _am_ sad... and today, it's been five years that I arrived here, I remember, it rained too, that day." He was whispering, staring into me with those ice blue eyes that could be so warm when he wanted them to be. I felt a little dizzy. "And that day, when I was in Roger's car, when he drove me here from the airport, I wanted to die, because God had taken my parents, and I loved them... I was wondering why he inflicted that to me, why he didn't want me to be happy..."

Impossible. There was no way God- if there was a God- would ever want _him_ to be unhappy. Despite the things he had done. If a useless gaming lump of flesh like me could see who Mello _was_ underneath all that, then the omniscient God would know it, too. And how could anyone hate him? How could anyone... ever want him not to be happy? When I would _die_ for it, when I'd give _anything_...

**Mello**_  
_It became suddenly easy to speak, like freeing something, unlocking the wolves in me. I was hungry for communication with Matt, eager for contact.  
I told him everything I had held back inside, everything that I had believed during all these years, I freed myself from these feelings, because he could understand them, he would now see the real me, the one I've tried to hide and that I wasn't afraid to show him anymore. Matt was unconditional, I could see it in his eyes, this acceptance, this...love...

I stopped. His gaze on me, my eyes diving in his, it was unreal, it was intoxicating. There was no rain anymore, no cold, no night, there was just those incredible blue eyes on me, pouring everything I had already seen in them, and had never placed until today: love, care, want... need. And everything echoed in me. More than my soulmate, I was feeling whole with him, sliding myself out of my own bubble to meet him in _our_ bubble. Shutting the world outside, because right at that moment, only him and me existed, only us. Finally _us_.

"But when I saw you... you just... cared. And I remember, when you brought me that chocolate cake, when you showed me for the first time that you cared, it stopped raining, at the same time... I know it's stupid, but for me, it was like if sorrow had stopped raining on me..."

"That's why you never bullied me like you did with the other kids?" Matt asked, squeezing my hand back, imperceptibly pulling me closer to him.

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't, because there's nothing about you I hate... I can't find anything to attack you for..."

**Matt**  
It wasn't that I was writhing in self-loathing, but I could think of plenty of things that a person like him should hate about a person like me. I didn't know how to answer that, so I said, "You didn't reply to my question."

He smiled before he spoke, and my heart sputtered and threatened to explode. I had never seen him smile like that. I had seen him grimace, I had seen him smirk, I had seen him laugh, but I had never seen such a genuine smile from him before. If I hadn't already been in love with him, I would have fallen at that moment, for that smile.

His words made it perfect. "I thank God because no matter what I thought at that time, he made me happy again."

I wanted so badly to grab him and kiss that smile breathless, but I couldn't stop looking at him for long enough to do it. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I wasn't sure I'd survive if I did. "That's the first time I've really seen you smile, and probably the first time I've heard so much of your voice," I said gently. His voice that I loved.

Then he said something that I never would have expected him to say. "And would you mind if that was also the first time I kiss you?"

Mind? Damn, I'd been _dreaming_ of it! I tossed the instantly forgotten umbrella over my shoulder and let the wind take it far away, and threw my arms around his neck to be closer to him, all for this idea. I grinned, forehead to forehead with him and said the cheesiest line I could think of because I knew it would please him. "As long as it's not the last."

He wrapped his arms around my waist, and yet again the physical contact made my head spin. I wondered if it would ever stop doing that, but I doubted it. For a long time, he just looked at me. The instant I decided I couldn't stand another moment of it, he gave in as well, and he kissed me so sweetly and tenderly that I wanted to cry. He tasted just how I had imagined he would taste.

No, there was no way God could hate this beautiful creature. And I could never believe that He could hate _me_ for loving it. He had made Mello fit in my arms in a way that no one else would ever be able to. He had given him to me, and given _me_ to _him_.

It was enough to make even _me_ believe.

I knew, more than anything that I had ever known, that this was right in the eyes of Man, in the eyes of Nature, in the eyes of God.

Because I felt the crucifix against my chest, and where it should have been stabbing me, it was warm.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Note:** hey, it's xBBx ! I know that the poem I wrote looks more like lyrics of a song in the format, with a chorus and all, but I'm used to write songs so this explains that, sorry! Consider this as a poem anyway!_

* * *

**Mello**  
We stood under the cold december rain, drenched, tightly holding each other, and the warmth radiating from Matt's body... I felt like he was setting me on fire.  
Matt was all I ever wanted, making me all I ever wanted to be. I was learning to love myself, there, kissing him. Learning that I was worth being loved, that life was worth being lived, and I loved him all the more for that, because he had made nothing for things to be that way, except being who he was. Except being the One for me.

From that moment, love became unconditional, and I knew it would always be. My love for him, my love for life, my love for God. There was no doubt anymore.

Suddenly, someone squealed so loud that we both started, before looking in the direction where the voice came from.  
Even before seeing her, I knew it was Linda. She was standing under the porch, looking at us, her hands joined and a huge smile on her face. Floyd was standing behind her with a disgusted face, his mouth hanging open.  
Matt and me looked at each other and burst into laughter, his forehead falling on my shoulder.

"We should get in before we get sick." I told him. We had somehow broken physical contact when we had turned to look at Linda, and he was now shivering. I wasn't really warm anymore myself, the wind was blowing strongly and the rain was now beginning to fall as tiny icy droplets.  
He took my hand in a way so natural that I could only follow, pressing his fingers in mine, still and again marvelled by the feeling of his skin touching mine.

But as we passed in front of Linda, who had let room for us to get under the porch, I stopped and looked at Floyd. Then at Linda. "He made a bet with Ike to fuck you tonight, just so we're even." I told her, the words strangely sounding like out of someone else's mouth.  
Her eyes went wide, and that all I saw as Matt and me left for our room. But Floyd's voice rose in protest behind our back, quickly followed by a loud slap and heels stacking the floor along the corridor.  
It was weird what Matt was making me do.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward once we closed the door of our shared room behind ourselves.  
I realised that we had spent years in this place, in silence, living together and yet so separated. So I did the only thing that seemed right in this room, I pulled him in my arms, simply. I didn't want space between us.

His shirt was dripping, stuck to his back, and I instinctively began to peel it off him. He blushed deeply as he pulled the garment over his head, so I looked away. I know he was being very self conscious at the moment so I began to pull on the zipper of my leather vest, walking to the bathroom. I had a hard time getting rid of it, the leather was sticking to my skin, unable to slip down along my arms. Matt helped me out of the vest and began laughing. The wet leather had left black spots on my back.  
"I guess I have to take a shower." I smiled, and he left the bathroom after grabbing a towel, rubbing his hair with it as he closed the door behind him.

When I got back into the room, his clothes were pooled along with the towel on the floor, and he was asleep in his bed, his gameboy still on in his hands.  
I tiptoed to my dresser to pick up a pair of boxers, pulled them on before throwing the towel I had around my waist where Matt's clothes were, stirred the gaming device from his hands and deposited it on his night table after switching it off.

Hesitating, I finally grabbed my pillow and slid under his sheets. He woke up slightly, smiled to me and snuggled closer to me. My arm resting on his waist, I fell asleep a few seconds later.

- - -

The last days had been intense and awkward at the same time.

Intense because Matt and I had spent all our time together, it seemed like we couldn't get enough of each other's presence, we slept (and I mean, just slept) together, woke up together, kissed, stole food at the cafeteria to go back to our room faster, ate, played games, read (or at least, Matt held me from behind while we both sat on the floor, me reading and him barely looking at the pages above my shoulder, pecking at my neck, nipping my skin... and doing things in general that made the book end on the floor, forgotten, as we made out on the carpet)...

But awkward, so awkward. It was as if the purity of what we had couldn't be broken, like if I was afraid that Matt would disappear if I tried to make him mine, completely mine, like if he was scared to break some sacred barrier if his hands roamed to places they never dared to go before.  
The tension was palpable, sexual I mean. I wanted him, and I knew he wanted me. I was the one daring to go further, but I stopped, each time things heated up, because I could see in his eyes that he wasn't completely ready. So I withdrew my hands each time they ghosted on his chest, the look in his beautiful eyes enough to make me feel bad for trying. And I didn't even mind stopping.

Yes, I was fifteen, yes, my hormones were working full speed and yes, Matt wasn't making it the least easier for me with his body heat at night and his kisses and the way he walked and... just him, just everything he was.  
But if our relationship had to be chaste for eternity, then so be it.

So we found ways, our ways, to relieve this tension, to create our own means to fulfil something as powerful as the need we had for each other.  
We spent hours just looking at each other, close enough so I could see every detail, every colored spot of his irises, every freckle on his nose, feeling his warm breath tickling my lips, my fingers on his face and his on mine, exploring every inch of skin, drinking each other's features, caressing eyelashes and stroking jawline or nosebridge, and it was amazing.  
Amazing to see the small changes in his pupils, the emotions intertwine in slowly batting eyelids, eyes corners slightly rising up in a smile... And it was enough for us.

I remembered reading about dry orgasms and how to achieve such a goal in a book about spiritual bliss by some indian writer two years ago, and I had hardly understood the concept of reaching orgasm without any bodily fluid spent.  
I don't know if that was what I was feeling, but I liked to imagine that it was.  
Looking at Matt, owning him like I did, and letting him own me all the same by closing ourselves in our bubble and imprint his every detail in my mind, and see him do the same, and witness all the expressions passing in his eyes, that _I_ was creating, it made heat pool in my guts and explode in my mind like fireworks, and it flooded me so brutally that I often ended crying and smiling at the same time, cupping his face in my palms, and looking harder, wanting more of this, more of everything. More of the world. Because then I would be able to give it to him...

And tonight, it was Christmas eve. We had showed up in the cafeteria for the usual eve dinner, ate as fast as we could so we could go back upstairs as soon as possible. Because as strange as it was, the night we kissed had been the one when I had spoken the most. Not that I still stayed silent, but silence was still the most comfortable thing we had, and it didn't seem strange to us to go on that way, actually, we liked it. We were far beyond words, we understood each other after years of practising a silent dance all around each other.

As we entered our room, Matt headed for his night table, and stirred a red package out of it. He handed it to me, grinning from ear to ear.  
"Merry Christmas Mello!" he sang joyfully. I took the package he was holding out to me, and opened it religiously. Well, that was adequate. Matt had offered me a bible. A small bible with a black leather cover.  
"This way you can carry it with you, the one you have is so huge!"  
I smiled to him, and felt my heart sink. Even if I had wanted to talk, I was forced to silence. I had no words, no way to express what this little item meant to me. It was a present from one I loved, to pray one I loved. It felt right, so right...

I kissed him, tenderly, because there was nothing I would say, not even a 'thank you' could pass my lips.  
And I went to my own night table to pick up the poem I had written for him, that I had finished a few days ago.

He took the sheet of light blue paper as I handed it to him, my hand slightly shaking from fear that he wouldn't like it, that it sounded stupid or that he took me for a sissy to give him something like that.  
He looked at me, then at the page, and his eyes began to read, line after line...

_In Silence_

_I've been thrown from a life to another  
The vivid memories drowned in sorrow__  
As I stand by this window and wonder__  
Why God planned on leaving me here to grow_

_Among the sounds and faces of strangers_  
_When I only wanted to fade and die_  
_But you spread a comforting barrier_  
_Around the bubble I built like a lie_

_I've made my silence as golden as your presence_  
_Afraid to crack the thin shell of my illusions_  
_But you have made the unspoken so full of sense_  
_That my world suddenly set back into motion_

_I'm revolving around a mute planet_  
_All over your world like your satellite_  
_Where the sun shines high and will never set_  
_Because where you rise there can't be no night_

_You've made me from dead to deaf to the world_  
_Screaming smiles like signs on my trail of tears_  
_When I thought my prayers were left unheard_  
_I have been blind and silent all these years_

_I've made my silence as precious as your concern_  
_Lulling myself in dreams of a complicity_  
_Pleading the rain for a bright clear sky to return_  
_Not seeing you were already here, with me, for me_  
_In silence._


	24. Chapter 24

**Matt**  
In my hand I held proof of unconditional love.

I wouldn't know, but I would equate the feeling to that of being punched really, really hard in the face. It left me deaf, dumb, and motionless, left my head spinning like crazy, left me seriously considering just jumping him and throwing him to the floor and ravishing him. That wouldn't work though. He had been stopping right before we ever did _that_, presumably because of something he saw in me (fear?), which only made me love him more. I mean, how many fifteen-year-old boys can _stop_ right when they're about to...? Especially since I didn't even say out loud that I was... possibly... slightly afraid.

For years since meeting him, I had operated under the hope that maybe, _maybe_ something I did would make a difference to him. That maybe sitting with him in our special brand of silence meant as much to him as it did to me. If the idea that I had made things a _little_ better for him was thrilling, then I simply wasn't equip to accept that I had made it _all_ better. Me, who never got off my ass except to follow him around. How often did it work out in a person's life that the one who means everything to you, is the same person as the one you mean everything _to_? And when it does happen, isn't that the sign that you should be with that person forever?

It finally occurred to me that I should stop staring stupidly at his poem and actually look up at him before he assumed that he had freaked me out.

Although, if I was being totally honest, it _had_ freaked me out. As delighted as I was, I had never received that much obvious affection before. It was a lot of pressure, being someone's reason for living, even if that person was _your_ reason, too. As someone who strives to run away from any source of stress, I was surprised when I discovered that I _wanted_ this source. It was... _worrying_ about someone, caring about someone, wanting to know where someone is and if they're happy. It was the exact connection that you were supposed to get from family but that I had never felt until I met Mello. It was a _good_ stress. Warm. Filling up some kind of hole inside.

I looked up just as he was shifting uncomfortably, waiting for a response.

"Mels, I..." But I didn't know what to say. I was definitely not a 'words' person like him. I didn't know how to even begin to express what I was feeling, because I'd never had to until this moment. Before Mello, no one had really _cared_.

We were familiar with each other by now, since we spent so much time staring at each other, but this was something we hadn't done before. _He_ usually took the initiative, and while he was by no means _rough_ with me, he just obviously didn't do "soft." I instinctively knew that _I_ could. So I nodded, smiled slightly, and carefully folded up the piece of paper with the words I would later read hundreds of times until the letters had almost faded away. When it was small enough, I slid it into my back pocket. Then, slowly, I placed one hand on each side of his face, fingertips barely touching his skin. He smiled a little. Achingly slowly, my heart pounding (still!) at this closeness with him, I touched my lips to his like a feather, and then pulled away. If that poem had been a proposal, asking me to be with him forever, than that kiss had been a yes.

By the way his eyes stayed closed for a few moments after my barely-kiss, I knew he had received my message as well. Things that I would never be able to find the words for, that probably _neither_ of us would ever find the words for.

"Mello..." I whispered, not sure where I was going with it next.

Luckily, I didn't have to try to figure it out because he replied with a perfectly content, "Matt."

That was all I'd ever need.

I leaned in again and kissed him the way I had before. This time, though, I held our lips together a little bit longer before withdrawing. Again, and I parted my lips for a soft, slow, passionate kiss, which he returned at the exact same pace. His hands slipped up to my waist and rested there, warm and firm and undemanding.

And suddenly I didn't have any more doubts.

I let one hand slip down his body, down his neck which he tilted to accommodate me, over his shoulder, down his arm, to his hand. When the backs of our hands brushed, he took mine in his.

Not breaking contact with him, I backed us up slowly until the backs of my knees met with the mattress of his bed.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Note: **This is the last chapter, the completion, the final peak... The end of "In Silence", yes, after that one, it's over! But I squeezed some lemons ;)_ - xBBx  
**

* * *

Mello**  
Matt kissed me so softly, our tongues brushing in such a slow pace that I thought I would burst. Now that I thought about it, there probably was a reason why his hair was this fiery red.

Everything in him was softness. His deep blue eyes as calm as the water of a lake, his voice, caressing like a cool breeze, his hands, never harsh, always gentle, even the way he took me in his arms held more of the way a mother swan encircles her ducklings with her wings.  
I felt precious in his embrace.

But now, standing in front of my bed, he was fire. Not 'on fire', he was fire itself. His eyes contained a lust I could hardly sustain, his cheeks were blushing and his body radiated a heat I've never felt before, and the expression on his face was so determined, so certain, that I knew where this would lead us. I didn't see anything that could stop me, and to tell the truth, I was pretty sure that if I ever stopped, he would make me go on, he would go til the end of what we were starting.

He saw my... well, not hesitation, I was totally up for what would soon happen, I was a bit shocked to see him so... alive. He looked at me, worry beginning to rise in his eyes, so I just tackled him so we fell on the bed, me on top of him.

Wow. I'd never have expected this move to have these consequences. When I thought he looked alive, I hadn't guessed he would be alive and kicking... hmm... alive and licking would be a better statement.  
He flipped me on my back, laughing at our fall, pinning me to the mattress, and began licking my neck, and along my jawline, claiming my lips again, and the fire smouldered to a slow and lasting brasero as all his softness, tenderness came back.  
I couldn't help but think of when he had claimed me on the dancefloor, this raging aura around him, and this sudden calm, back as fast as it had left.  
I loved that. I loved feeling like he owned me completely, and how he freed me the second after, leaving me complete and linked to him in a way I've never bonded with anyone, not even my parents. He was all at once showing me that I was his, fully and indisputably, and that he accepted me as I was, unconditionally.

His hands roaming under my shirt sent shivers through my spine, I usually was the one to touch him this way, right before I stopped. I let him do without moving, it was intoxicating to be under him like this, and I was more than willing to let him do whatever he wanted with me.

It wasn't long before he pulled my shirt so high I could only get rid of it. It hadn't even touched the floor that Matt was already attacking my chest with his mouth, ravishing my nipples, making me moan in pleasure. I felt his hand slide along the back of my left thigh, pulling it up. I obliged, wrapping my leg around his. He moved his lower body slightly, and I suddenly felt his crotch against mine, brushing slowly, and there was no ignoring the obvious hard on he had as it was touching my own.

His lips never leaving my torso, the hand that had previously been located behind my thigh came in contact with my ass. Matt gave a light squeeze that surprised me, and I felt his fingers hook in the hem of my jeans in my back. Swiftly, his other hand unbuttoned my pants, allowing him to pull them down, taking my boxers along.  
I blushed when I realised that I was naked (and the bastard was fully clothed, hovering above me with a lustful smile).  
That couldn't work that way. I reached for his pants, fighting with the fly, but it wouldn't open.  
Matt chuckled, and after some squirming, his shirt and pants were on the floor with mines. He hadn't opened the zipper of his pants to get them off, that's when I understood why he always wore them one size bigger than necessary, Matt was so lazy he was even too lazy to open his pants so he just slid them on and off without unzipping them.  
The fly was rusty since it was never used.

I slid his boxers down, there was no way he kept them on. And Toadstool boxers are lustkillers, to my opinion. Well, not at that particular moment, since I was ready to rape him, or be raped, whatever, but I'd have to burn all his Mario patterned boxers later.

He pushed me back on the bed and from there, both naked, everything began to spin, my head, the bed, the room even. Matt was all over me completely and not enough at the same time, I was sure I would soon lose my mind with the need, the pleasure, the want for more. More of what, I couldn't really tell, I already felt overwhelmed but I wanted more.

As Matt leant to kiss me, deeply, his tongue curling around mine in slow motion, I grabbed his erection, and began to mimic the movement of his tongue with my thumb, caressing the tip of his member when he brushed the tip of my tongue with his, doing little circles in rhythm with him, and he was moaning against my mouth, his breath becoming heavier as I felt precum under the tip of my thumb. And he went on, showing me with his tongue what he wanted from my finger, smiling in the kiss each time I did what he expected. I smiled too, loving the sounds he made.  
Suddenly he began sucking on my tongue and lips, his moans getting needier, louder. I broke the kiss and slid down.  
Matt smiled to me as he rolled on his back, giving me better access between his legs, and oh the way he sighed when I took him in my mouth, the rush of blood in his member, and the taste of precum... I sucked him hard, pumping the base of his erection with a hand while the other massaged his balls, delighted by the way I could make him feel.  
"Mmm... Mello..." he whispered softly, propping himself on an elbow, his hand reaching my hair to catch my attention, "Mello..." he repeated, and I knew he was close, so I just smiled and went on. He looked at me with half lidded eyes, smiling back, and there was lust in those eyes, yes, but so much tenderness that when he tensed up, gasping, and that I tasted the salty liquid on my tongue, I cried. I cried of happiness because this was mine, it was me who had made him reach climax, it was me touching him, it was me swallowing his cum, it was all mine and I... loved him.

Matt relaxed, pulling me into his arms. We cuddled a few moments, and I almost thought he had fallen asleep in the crook of my neck when I felt his hand creep between my legs. I was in such a bliss for having given him pleasure that I had totally forgotten my own hard on, but feeling his hand on my crotch fuelled my lust instantly.

I crawled on top of him, and he continued pumping my erection as I sat on his lap. He sat up, making me fall head at the end of the bed, rampaging above me to kiss me, his hand not leaving my dick, and he seemed to hesitate a few seconds as his eyes searched for mines.

Then he asked me shyly: "Mello... how do you want it?"  
I looked at him puzzled until I understood what he meant. I didn't know how I wanted it, actually. I hadn't thought about that precise subject, and even if I was slightly afraid of the pain, I didn't care if I took him in or the contrary.  
He seemed to understand that I didn't know what to reply, and I knew that he would accept bottom because I didn't know, because he would never choose the "let's top Mello" option between the two possibilities, because that's how he was. And that wasn't fair. So I simply replied: "Take me, Matt."  
If someone had to take the pain because none of us knew how we would do it, then it would be me.

He lowered, pecking my skin along his way down to my crotch, and began to give small licks to the tip of my erection, making me gasp. My fingers crept in his hair, stroking the soft locks as he blew me. I had to refrain myself to push him down, not wanting to choke him, but it felt so good!  
It's only when he added a second finger, making it a bit uncomfortable for me, that I realised that he had already a finger in me. The way he sucked on my dick felt so amazing that I hadn't even notice that he was probing me.  
He looked at me through his bangs, and I nodded for a third finger, when the strange feeling from two fingers had disappeared. He pushed his three fingers in, and pain shot all of a sudden, making me tense around him.  
He withdrew them, his mouth leaving my cock, and watched me as I tried to relax, as he pushed them in again, slowly, carefully.  
It was still painful, but little by little, it became bearable.  
Since we hadn't planned this, and since it was something not really easy to ask Roger ('hey Roger, can you buy some lube for Matt and me? We'd like to sex up each other someday soon...'), we had no lube.  
Matt licked his fingers again, adding more saliva before he went on preparing me.  
The pain didn't want to go, and I was beginning to dread the moment Matt would penetrate me. He was by no means small, and I wondered how it would fit in. I think he was scared too, taking so much time to make me ready (would I be able to be ready?).

I saw his expression change to a concentrated one, something similar to when he played his games. His fingers probed me again and again, changing angle, curling slightly.  
"Ah!" a loud moan escaped me against my will. I shivered both from shame and pleasure. I was sure that if there was someone in the corridor or in the next room, they would've heard me. But he did it again, sending waves of I don't know what but it was absolutely fantastic through my body, leaving me panting and my cock smearing precum abundantly, erected almost painfully.  
This was too much, and not enough once again.  
It was a shared feeling, since Matt crawled up until his lips met mine, and he pushed himself in me. His look was needy, lustful, eager even. Just in time, because I was ready to beg him to fuck me immediately.

The pain shot up as his balls hit my butt cheeks, his member completely in me. I felt stretched beyond my capacity, and Matt began to rock me against the mattress in a slow pace, going deeper each time, if possible.  
It hurt, but I didn't want him to stop. He was in me, I was feeling him filling me, he held me close, breathing in the crook of my neck, I could feel sweat pearl on his forehead and dampen my shoulder, he was moaning and groaning directly in my ear, leaving soft kisses from time to time on my earlobe, murmuring my name: "Mello... Mello..."  
It felt wrong.

"Mihael." I whispered in his ear.  
His face lifted up to meet mine, his eyes questioning, until he realised. He smiled so beautifully, still moving in me, his gaze not leaving mine, pouring so much tenderness, so much... love...  
"Mail..." he replied simply.

His skin sliding against mine, sweat making our bodies slick, his heavy breath, my pants, his moans, my sighs... I'll always remember the first time Matt... Mail and me made love, and how he cried my name, my real name, when he came in me, holding me so tight he would have taken my breath away if I hadn't already lost it when I saw the look in his eyes.  
And how he finally, really broke the silence as he told me he loved me.


End file.
